The Only Way I Know You Love Me Is When You Leave Me Alone
by taralkariel
Summary: Natasha has been on her own for a while now, and is fine with that. Life much less complicated when she's alone. Bucky is out of cryo and working with Steve, trying to reconnect with the world and find his place in it. When the two meet again in Odessa, both will have to decide what they really want. (sequel to "Everybody Else's Girl" and "Real Man")
1. God Knows Things Could Be Worse

**A/N: Hello! This is the third in the series, but I'm sure you can just hop in and follow along fine. I hope you enjoy slow burns, because this will be a long one :) Titles are from the MS MR song. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **God knows things could be worse**

An alarm began to sound, with lights all along the concrete corridor flashing. It was deafening and Steve stopped short to look at Bucky. "I think they might suspect we're here," the former remarked conversationally.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "I told you I'd be fine by myself. But, no, the big damn hero has to come in and set off alarms with his lumbering around."

"I don't lumber," Steve replied, sounding offended as he led the way forward.

"Yeah, well, you weigh a ton. Back me up, Sam," he added into his comms.

What sounded like Sam snorting could have been attributed to the static. "It isn't a picnic catching either of your dumb asses when you jump. Let's try to stay focused here, because some of us don't want to go back to that ocean prison. Looks like it'll be twenty yards ahead on your right."

"Copy," Steve said.

The three of them worked well together. Sometimes Barton joined them in the field. Lang and Wanda had abilities that were pretty unique, so they were usually in charge of pre-mission groundwork. The man who sent them, Nick Fury, never showed up in person. He worked in the shadows and contacted them through Barton. Bucky had not seen Fury since shooting him three times in the chest, so he definitely preferred this arrangement.

It had taken about a month after he'd been awoken from cryo for N'Kana to complete his arm and be satisfied with it. Then he had left Wakanda to join Steve and his friends, who were always on the move. Staying together would attract attention, so they were not often all in the same country. Sam was clearly Steve's second in command since he took half the group when they were apart, though Barton was known to go off on his own quite a bit.

Bucky was enjoying his new line of work. It was kind of like being in the Howlies again, albeit with less government support. Significantly less – they were all wanted fugitives now. But the people they helped were generally willing to turn a blind eye. Their main goal was taking down organizations like HYDRA and AIM, and anything else along those lines. Wanda could usually find their operations using her abilities somehow (Bucky wasn't clear on exactly what she could do). Sam did recon with Redwing, sometimes with Barton. An ex-thief like Lang was pretty handy at figuring out how to get in the place, with some input from Barton and occasionally Bucky. Then Steve led the charge with whomever he felt would be most effective on that particular mission. He was a good leader and made sure everyone had a part.

Barton was likely given other jobs that he took care of on his own, since he only joined them on about half of their field work. That was mainly why Bucky had started going – he was wary of facing any HYDRA agents who might know things about him or know about other ways to trigger him that N'Kana and his assistants hadn't addressed. So he'd been content to hang back and help out his new friends from their base. But Barton being gone so much made leaving a sniper/spy at home less than ideal.

Thus far, Bucky had been in the field six times without incident. He hadn't killed anyone and no one had made him do anything he didn't want to do. So he was becoming comfortable with the job. Besides, he liked working alongside Steve again, and Sam was a great partner. Maybe because they were all former military, but they were usually on the same page and Bucky found it easiest to get along with Sam. Lang and Barton were fine, but Lang seemed a little intimidated by him (and a lot in awe of Steve), while Barton was pretty focused on missions whenever he was with them. Wanda… Well, she was in a category all her own, wasn't she? But she was nice to him and he made an effort to return the favor – he knew it must be boring to hang back by herself so often.

They found the door Sam had indicated, and Bucky crossed in front so they were standing on either side of it. Steve met his gaze with a nod, then he moved over to kick the door down with Steve covering him. Inside, there were piles and piles of crates – hundreds of them. There was no way they'd find the one they were looking for before reinforcements arrived. They had barricaded doors along the way, and Lang had managed to lock down the place using their own security measures. But those weren't going to be enough.

"How's it looking, Sam?" Steve asked, undeterred as he headed for the nearest section.

"Hostiles still contained. Couple of trucks headed your way, though – your escape route might be compromised soon."

Bucky and Steve exchanged a grim glance. If it came to it… There weren't a lot of places that could hold the Winter Soldier (or the former Captain America) for very long. But both of them hoped it wouldn't come to that. "There's got to be two hundred crates in this place. How do we know which one it is?" Bucky asked Sam.

There was a pause. "Looks like it's ten feet to your left, C – Steve."

Steve didn't react to the slip, but Bucky smiled slightly. It was hard not to call him Cap when they were on a mission. There was a stack of three crates ten feet to Steve's left, so Bucky quickly joined him and they searched thoroughly until they found what they'd been sent here to get – a sample of a radioactive material that HYDRA intended to use for one of their usual nefarious purposes.

"Got it," Steve reported as Bucky wrapped it up carefully and tucked it into the bag he'd brought for the purpose.

"Hostiles coming your way. Take the first left," Sam ordered as they reached the corridor again.

They followed Sam's directions to a T, but there were only so many alternate routes in the facility. At least they had almost reached the outside door before they were forced to meet the enemy head on. Fighting with Steve, shield or no, was like second nature. Even though both had learned different techniques in their years apart, there was enough of who they used to be to adapt to each other effectively. It took only a few moments – blocking bullets with Bucky's arm, boxing in adversaries between them to be taken down, jumping behind cover from explosions – and they were out. Then they ran. Until they reached where their motorcycles were hidden. Steve checked in on Sam as they sped away – another successful mission.

* * *

A celebratory dinner followed successful missions, and Bucky stuck around for a while before he headed outside for some air. It was hard for him to adjust back to civilian life, especially after being in the field. He knew it was important, and he tried his best. But his mind was racing still and he couldn't enjoy having a few drinks with Steve's friends – even if they were becoming more and more his friends. But what could he offer to the conversation? He had decades of torture and murder as his most recent experiences. Or hiding out for two years once he'd escaped – but there wasn't much there he was interested in sharing. So he could talk about the war and before with Steve, but he was aware that the others would not be enthralled by two army buddies reminiscing for the evening. Which was why he excused himself after a while.

Their current safe house had a walled yard around it, and he'd been sitting on the porch for about half an hour when he heard a car driving up. His body tensed but he forced himself to stay where he was. If anyone was intending cause them harm, it was unlikely they'd be successful. Not with Sam and Steve and Wanda and Lang to contend with.

"Hey, Barnes."

It was a relief to hear Barton's voice. "Hey. Didn't expect you back for another week," Bucky replied, getting to his feet leisurely to face the spy.

From the look on his face, his early return wasn't good news. "Yeah. Something came up. Listen…" he trailed off with a slight frown.

"What is it?" Bucky prodded.

Barton didn't answer right away, seeming deep in thought. "I have this – uh – this meet I was supposed to go to in Ukraine. But Fury needs me to reach out to some folks I know in South America. You speak Ukrainian, right?"

Ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach, Bucky nodded.

"It's an easy job, just passing along information to my contact. Should only take a day and you'll be back. You'll have to go solo, though. She'll get spooked by Steve and them."

Bucky frowned a little – he'd never considered himself as the least intimidating person here. "I'd like to help but I don't know about this."

Smiling grimly, Barton nodded. "Come on. Let's go see what the boss thinks."

* * *

It was not a short discussion between Barton and Steve, but the next morning, Bucky was packed and ready for anything as he got on a plane bound for Ukraine. He knew he'd been there several times before on missions as the Soldier. So the place was familiar to him. Meeting a contact was not – assassins usually just had drop offs and extractions – but he was best qualified for the job since Barton had to be the one in South America. His contacts there wouldn't trust anyone else, nor could they wait, apparently.

Bucky followed Barton's directions exactly and was sitting in a café that evening, wearing a red shirt and brown jacket as instructed. He scanned the crowd unobtrusively as he waited patiently. Until he saw her. Barton never told him it would be her. But, then, how could he know Bucky would care?

It had been less than half a year since he last saw her, but it had been different then. He hadn't remembered yet, not really. So seeing her again was something of a shock. It was clear she had seen him and was headed his way calmly. But when she got close, she glanced up and stopped short.

"You?"

"Natalia?"


	2. But It's Hard Seeing You Age

**A/N: In case you missed Nat's story, the gist is that she was working a job and ended up running into Aleksander Lukin and her old headmistress from the Red Room. With help from Sharon, she tracked them down and put them away before using some of the intel she'd gathered to go to Wakanda and give them a way to get the triggers out of Bucky's head. So that brings us up to now :) Thanks for reviewing!**

 **But it's hard seeing you age**

Working for Fury again was easy. Natasha got a mission, she went undercover for a while to complete it, she moved on. Sometimes unexpected complications arose and she had to lay low for a while in one of her various safe houses. But there were plenty of those to choose from, so it was rarely a real problem. Money was still tight – Fury wasn't exactly set up in a capacity where she could sign up for direct deposit. Enough of the jobs themselves paid a little, though, and she was doing alright.

She saw Clint from time to time, also running jobs for Fury. They didn't talk about the rest of the team. They didn't talk about anything that had happened in the last few months. Once, he had asked her about going to Wakanda, clearly confused that she hadn't gone there to see Steve and come back to work with them. She hadn't answered and he hadn't pressed. It was hard for him, not being able to see his family indefinitely. So they kept their conversations light.

Mostly she worked on her own. In between jobs for Fury, she kept tabs on the people she'd helped Sharon had put away – Madame B and Lukin. They were still in custody, but Natasha could find no record of the woman whom she'd fought. Though she'd been drugged and a little confused, the moves the other woman had employed were far too familiar. Not because they had met before, but because it seemed that they had been trained in the same methods. Given whom her employers apparently were, that made sense. It made her uneasy – the Red Room had been shut down for years. There shouldn't be anyone else like her out there. And, if there were… Well, she didn't like the thought of such a person being unsupervised.

Sharon had returned to her job in Berlin and Natasha surprised herself by considering going to visit. Because of her upbringing, she was generally wary of friendship with women (or anyone), but working with Sharon had been pleasant. And it was hard, being out here in the cold, after she'd been working closely with the team – and, before that, Clint – for a long time. But given how all that ended, why would she want to start up again?

Though she trusted Fury, she had not told him everything about the mission with Lukin and Madame B. But she had told Clint. So he was helping her, finding out what he could between missions for Fury. Or sometimes on them, if the opportunity presented itself. She appreciated the gesture and was very glad that, even if they'd ended up on opposite sides, they were still friends.

* * *

"I told you, I don't know anything!"

Natasha smiled coolly at the man who was speaking. He was middle-aged, balding, wearing a rumpled suit. Of course, it hadn't been rumpled before she'd knocked him out and tied him to a chair.

"You're lying," she answered calmly, looking back down at the computer in front of her. Getting all the information off of it would take a few more minutes.

"Please! My kids –"

"Will be fine. There's an awful lot of hidden files on your computer for not knowing anything about your bosses. These can't all be porn, can they?"

He paled and she grinned. "Are you going to kill me?" he asked quietly.

"Wasn't planning on it. Might gag you and leave you here, though, if you don't start talking." Someone would find him eventually, probably within twenty-four hours. But he didn't look too happy about that idea.

He let out a breath and looked at his lap, considering his options. She looked at the progress bar on his computer then back at him. "The home base is in Portugal. I don't know where. I've never been there."

"Why not?" she asked conversationally.

"I'm just an accountant. I don't get sent places!"

The download finished with a soft beep and she smiled at him again. "I guess I'd better brush up on my Portuguese, then," she told him as she packed up her supplies. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you."

"Wait! I thought you weren't going to leave me here if I talked!" he cried, leaning forward against the ropes.

"Careful," she warned as his chair started to tip. "I said I wouldn't leave you bound and gagged. You hardly did any talking," she explained, shaking her head as she headed out the door. He continued to protest, but she ignored him.

It was early evening and she was in an office building in Mykolaiv. Everyone had gone home – except for one hard-working accountant. But they would be back in the morning. So she wasn't particularly worried about leaving the man there. Security was still around, this being a cover for AIM, and she didn't want to have to deal with them on her way out. It would get too messy and she was supposed to be undercover.

She successfully made it out of the building and back to her hotel without being noticed, then drew herself a bath. Clint was coming through Ukraine tomorrow and said he had found some intel she would want to see right away. So there was no hurry to go far – she would drive over in the morning. Even if Odessa hadn't been particularly kind to her in the past. After her bath, she had dinner and settled in to read the information she'd gotten from the accountant's computer. Mostly boring stuff, but a few leads. Fury would be thrilled.

In the morning, she awoke to her phone buzzing – Clint. "Hey," she answered it sleepily.

"Sorry, Nat, but I'm not going to be able to make it. I'm on my way to South America."

She sat up. "Is something wrong?"

There was a pause. "There's some time-sensitive stuff I can't send online, so I had to enlist one of our friends. You're not going to like it, but I didn't have a lot of options."

Grimacing, she supposed that meant Steve. Well… It would be good to get some things out of the way. "I'm sure it's important enough to put personal differences aside," she said smoothly.

He snorted. "Yeah. Well, hopefully. I gave him directions to the café where we were going to meet, around 1700. He'll be wearing red and brown so you can spot him before anyone else does. Try not to attract attention to him – he's a fugitive, after all," he added, teasing. As if that set him apart from the rest of them.

"I'll see what I can do. Take care of yourself."

"You too."

With a sigh, she got up to get ready, going over in her head what she would say to Steve. Though she was hoping he would do most of the talking. Since the peacefulness of her day was gone, she figured she'd go shopping after she got to Odessa. It was nicely diverting, even if she didn't buy anything. With as much travel as she did, packing more than a small suitcase wasn't reasonable. If she needed something particular for an op, she would buy it on the way. And then lose it afterward to avoid being traced. There were only a handful of things she considered important enough to hang onto, and they could all fit in her suitcase.

As the sun was setting, she headed for the café, thinking that she was getting hungry. Eating together would decrease the potential for awkward silences. Hopefully Steve could give her Clint's intel and then they could go their separate ways. Though Clint had sounded worried about more than an uncomfortable reunion… So maybe she should consider working with Steve to get the job done.

She spotted the man in the brown jacket – well, there was more than one, but only one looked big enough to be a super soldier. Steeling her nerves, she walked closer and saw that it wasn't Steve. That stopped her in her tracks. "You?" The word escaped her and she wished she could take it back.

"Natalia?"

It was just her name in Russian, not something she make a big deal about. Barton had probably told him not to speak in English while he was here. So she shouldn't feel lightheaded at hearing her name from him. Of course he knew her name. It was fairly common knowledge. It didn't mean anything.

Recovering, she slid into the seat across from him and adopted a smirk. "Thought you were sleeping," she said, covering for all the questions she really wanted to ask.

He regarded her and she hoped he thought her pause had been because of the last time they were in Odessa. Or DC or Berlin. Not… Not anything else. It would be reasonable to be given pause by running into a person who tried to kill you, right?

"I woke up," he replied evenly.

Did he always stare so intently? Probably not. What was he thinking? Why was he here? Why hadn't Clint warned her? The line might not have been secure, but there were ways to get around that and still get information across.

"That's good to hear," she noted casually. "You have something for me?"

He blinked and nodded, looking down as he pulled something out of his pocket. A flash drive. Handing it over, he held her gaze and she wished she could read what he was thinking. It was something she usually excelled at doing. But she didn't know him all that well – at least, not Bucky Barnes. She was very familiar with the Winter Soldier.

"Thank you." That wasn't like her, to be polite without any smirking addition, but maybe it was because she was distracted.

"He didn't say it would be you," he said suddenly, then cringed.

She smiled, glad to see she wasn't the only one uncomfortable. "Was he trying to punk us?"

A slight frown crossed his features and she supposed he didn't know what "punking" someone was. "I'm, uh, I'm real sorry for, you know. Before," he told her quietly, addressing the sentiment to the table between them. "If there's anything I can do to, you know, make up for it…" he trailed off.

Sitting back with forced nonchalance, she smirked. "You could buy me dinner."

His smile was a little hesitant, but seeing the way it transformed his whole demeanor hit like a blow and it was all she could do to hold her expression. "Alright," he agreed.


	3. The Man I Once Knew Staring Back at Me

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **The man I once knew staring back at me**

Since he'd been awoken from cryo remembering her and knowing that she'd helped him, he'd tried to learn as much as he could from his teammates about her. It wasn't much. He'd optimistically started the list on a new page in one of his journals:

Natasha Romanoff

· Stealthy – can get into or out of any situation

· Cool under pressure

· Great in a fight

· Loves bad jokes

· Friendly but doesn't share personal life

It had become clear, from his casual questioning, that he might already know more about her than anyone else. He didn't think she'd like that. Barton was the only one who knew anything about her past in the Red Room – Steve had heard of it, knew a story or two from then. They all knew she was a former Russian spy, but even with all SHIELD's secrets available, there wasn't much to be gleaned about her. Nothing that would help him figure her out, anyway.

So sitting across from her in a café in Odessa, watching her enjoy пташине молоко - ptashyne moloko – with unfeigned pleasure was possibly more than he could handle.

"You should try it," she told him with a smile.

He looked at the candies for a long moment, then picked one up carefully in his ungloved right hand. It was clear that she was amused by his reaction. The awkwardness had dissipated while they had eaten, since food was a relatively safe subject for them to discuss. He could read the menu but didn't know what most of it meant – his diet with HYDRA hadn't exactly been expansive. So she'd been happy to help him pick what to eat.

"You didn't get any of these from your former employers, either?" she teased.

A rueful smile crossed his face after he took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. "You know, I'm as surprised as you are. I can't imagine why they would have kept something so delicious from me."

Then she did something surprising – she laughed. He almost choked at the sound. Steve had said she liked to make bad jokes, but no one had mentioned her laughter. Or perhaps they just didn't think it was important. In their previous … interactions, he couldn't remember there being much joviality, though they'd certainly gotten along well. But her whole face lit up with the laugh and the thought that he was the one who caused it sort of made his brain skitter to a stop.

"Hey, Barnes, you with me?" she asked, somewhat concerned.

He swallowed. "Yeah, just – uh – not used to things being this sweet."

Nodding, she glanced past him and he would have thought she was nervous if he didn't know better. Natasha Romanoff, world-class spy, nervous at a simple dinner? Ridiculous. No one had ever seen such a thing in much more dire situations. Even accounting for the fact that he'd gotten close to killing her a few times before – she could hardly be worried about that.

"We should go somewhere to talk," she said suddenly, quietly.

His heart raced. Did she remember everything? Was she going to tell him to back off, to stay away from her and not mention it? Or, possibly more terrifying, the opposite? What would he say? He had known her once, but they were both different people then. He understood that, but it didn't deter him from wanting to know her better. At some point in the last few months, he'd decided that, whatever she was comfortable with, he would be happy to do. But now that she was actually there, sitting across from him, he was thinking he'd be very relieved to get on that plane back to Steve.

"Okay," he answered, mouth dry. Using his left hand because the fingers wouldn't tremble, he paid for their meal and then followed her toward the street.

She walked slowly, meandering, until he'd caught up. Then she moved with a little more purpose. They made their way around several blocks, backtracking and changing direction suddenly until she stopped at a doorway. He was thoroughly lost and didn't know if that was the desired effect or if she'd been shaking a tail. Producing a lock-picking kit from the pocket of her coat, she set to work on the door. He shifted his weight, glancing up and down the dark street to see if they were being observed.

It didn't take long for her to get the door open. Once they were inside, she stepped around him to slide several deadbolts into place. It was clearly a safe house – it looked like it hadn't been used in a long time. The furniture was sparse, unlike the arsenal the covered the wall to his left. He stared at it in surprise.

"It's good to be prepared," she explained lightly, aware of where he was looking.

He glanced at her with a smile and watched as she used her phone to scan the two rooms – three if you counted the bathroom. Whatever she saw was apparently satisfactory, because she dropped onto the couch and pulled a laptop out of her bag. She inserted the drive he'd given her and then patted the seat next to her invitingly, though she didn't quite look at him.

With some hesitation, he joined her on the couch. Computers were not his forte and he wanted to ask her what she was doing, but didn't want to interrupt.

"A few months ago, the scientist I was escorting got captured by this man," she said without preamble, pointing to a photo that suddenly popped up. He could feel her eyes on him so he looked carefully.

"I think I know him," he told her slowly.

"Aleksander Lukin. Took over Department X after Karpov was, hm, let go."

Her explanation was matter-of-fact. He had thought the Red Room was part of that department, and would have expected more emotion from her when referring to it. So maybe he was wrong about that. Maybe he was wrong about all of it – maybe it was a completely different woman he'd known, or maybe there had been no woman at all. Just one of their tricks.

"Hey, Barnes, come back."

"Sorry," he muttered, clenching his hands together.

He didn't look up at her, focusing instead on the computer even though he could tell she was still looking at him. "There was a woman there, a very dangerous one. When he and the rest of his people were put in custody, she got away."

"Who put them in custody?" he wondered aloud, unaware that she had that kind of pull.

"Technically? Sharon Carter."

"Steve's girl?"

Natasha snorted, possibly amused. "Yes. Steve's girl. How did you know about that?"

Realizing he might have overstepped, he pressed his lips together while considering a response.

"I'm not going to get her in trouble," she told him gently, clearly able to read his concern.

He glanced up at her then away. "Yeah, okay. She gave him his shield back after we escaped. Then he – uh – thanked her in a way that – uh – implied they were close," he stumbled through.

"Did he kiss her?" she asked sharply enough that he wondered if Steve had misread the situation between him and Romanoff.

"Yes."

The grin on her face removed his doubt and he smiled back. "Good for him. He doesn't act on what he wants often enough."

Her insight into his generally closed-off best friend was reassuring. He was glad to hear that Steve had friends who understood him in the future. "That's Steve," he agreed, settling back against the dusty cushions.

She looked like she wanted to pursue that comment, but turned back to her computer instead. "So, I'm trying to track down this woman. She's almost as much of a ghost as you were all those years. I think she has some of your training and could use some backup on this. I was going to ask Clint, but, since he's busy…" Trailing off, she kept her gaze fixed on the image of Lukin on the screen and he could tell she was tense.

"Natalia," he began but was tongue-tied when she looked up at him. Her expression was intentionally unreadable and he had no idea what she was thinking. Clearing his throat, he forced himself to continue before it got awkward again. "Steve expects me back by morning." An almost imperceptible change came over her face and he thought she might be disappointed. "But I could talk to him about staying," he added.

"I'd hate to tear you away from anything," she replied quietly, standing up.

He stood as well, and suddenly the thought of leaving was scarier than staying – when would he ever see her again? "I'm usually redundant on missions. They won't miss me," he hastened to add.

When she looked up at him, there was just the hint of relief on her face. Was she that worried about the mission – or was it something else? Maybe she didn't want him to leave so soon, either?

"Thank you. So, only one bed. Should we flip for it?"

He wasn't going to guess what her teasing might mean. "I'll be fine on the couch," he said quickly.

"Suit yourself. Goodnight, James," she added, glancing over her shoulder before disappearing into the bedroom.

What had he gotten himself into? Sitting back down, he opened his bag and pulled out his notebook – most of them were in a safety deposit box in Bucharest, but he always kept one nearby. Turning to the page with Natasha's name on it, he smiled a little and added onto it:

· Likes ptashyne moloko

· Takes care of her friends

Then he settled in and hoped he could calm down enough to sleep – he had a feeling tomorrow was going to be busy.


	4. Baby, Things Sure Ain't the Same

**A/N:Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Baby, things sure ain't the same**

Being a spy meant dealing with unpredictable and sometimes volatile situations. Plenty of ops had gone south on her before, through no fault of her own, and she had managed to get them back on track. So this should be child's play. Not tracking down Lukin's trainee – working with the Winter Soldier. James. Bucky? He was reportedly almost as skilled in the field as she was, and very qualified when it came to wet work. So he might even be a more useful addition to the mission than Clint could have been.

That was all perfectly reasonable and logical, and Natasha could think that way when she was alone in her bedroom. But the thought of him just outside, and the way he stared with those big blue eyes… Well, she wasn't sure how long logic would fit into the equation if there was going to be prolonged contact.

So, the facts. Once upon a time, when she was a lonely and desperate young woman, she'd met a man in similar straits. They were both weapons, once – to be used. And it had been a significant turning point in her life when they'd decided to do something for themselves instead of for their handlers. It hadn't been a long affair, but it had given her a reason to defect. Well, another reason. She had realized what she was doing and that there might be options for her life other than being in the Red Room. Not to mention that his training had helped her become the best – thereby ensuring her survival until she could escape.

But then they were punished and he had continued living in that hell for a long time. The next time she'd seen him, he'd shot her. She could have died if she hadn't received prompt medical attention. So when Steve said he'd shown up in DC, she had tried to be ready. But she wasn't, and ending up shot and getting medical attention again. No one else had managed to shoot her in all her years in the field. And then, most recently, her counter attacks had little effect on the Winter Soldier and T'Challa had likely saved her life.

So she had a feeling that, at least deep down, he might be holding a grudge after what she'd inadvertently done to him.

After she'd escaped the Red Room, she had gone to look for him. But he was a ghost. She hadn't known, then, that he was put into cryo. Until she happened to be searching through some of the nasty things HYDRA kept in storage and found him. It was a shock – taking her back years to the frightened young Widow she'd been when they first met. She didn't know how to wake him, and was forced to leave before making any attempt to get him out of there. And, when she'd returned a few days later, he was gone.

It was still more of a shock to find out that he was Bucky Barnes – a hero she had not heard about until she had read up on recently thawed Steve Rogers prior to meeting him. But he was still someone who was well-regarded in the history books. And it had occurred to her that they didn't have that much in common after all. He hadn't been brought up to this life like she had. There was a normalcy in his history that was alien to her. So what had once connected them felt lost.

From their interactions in Berlin and at the airport, there was no reason to suspect he remembered their history. And, even though he'd been acting strange today, that could easily be attributed to surprise at seeing her and guilt about the previous encounters he did remember. So there shouldn't be any danger on his side of things. She just had to keep in mind that he was a WWII veteran, an American hero, Steve Rogers' best friend, and the man she loved had just been a shadow – a ghost.

Romance tended not to work out too well for her anyway. She was alone right now, more than she'd been for a long time. A friend would be a nice change of pace – but she didn't need or want more than that. If he was going to accompany her on this mission, she wouldn't expect anything else.

* * *

She didn't get a whole lot of sleep, but she used the time to read through everything Clint had sent her. At dawn, she got up and busied herself in her room for as long as possible. But they really needed to get a move on, so she went to the door and opened it slowly, ignoring the way her heart pounded at the thought of seeing him again.

He was asleep. Stretched out on his right side, wearing the same clothes as the day before, with his hands tucked under his pillow. He used to be a messier sleeper, she thought with an ache in her chest. Some of his hair had fallen across his face and she couldn't help but think how young he looked. Was she technically older than him now? She certainly felt older. Who would he have been if HYDRA had never gotten their claws in him?

Perhaps sensing her presence, he began to stir. So she covered for herself. "Time to get up, James," she said quietly, opening the door all the way and walking out of her room as though she hadn't just been standing there watching him.

Blinking owlishly when she opened the shades, he sat up slowly. "What time is it?" he asked, voice rough with sleep.

It took an effort not to think of other times she'd heard his voice sound like that. "6:30. There's a plane we need to be on in an hour."

"Where are we going?" he asked as he shoved a notebook in his backpack and then swung it over his shoulder.

She busied herself with making sure the safe house had no evidence of their stay, and could remain uninhabited for a while. "Clint has a reliable source in Rhapastan who spotted the woman sixteen hours ago in the capitol city. We may be able to catch her before she finishes whatever she is doing there."

Nodding, he stood off to the side of the room, out of her way, and waited. It was a challenge to look at him. It had been easy to convince herself that she was fine with all of this when he wasn't in the room. But now… She'd have to steel her resolve if she was going to keep from asking him about what he remembered.

"Where's Rhapastan?" he asked after a pause.

"The Middle East. An ally of the former Soviet Union. It would not surprise me if Lukin had some followers hiding out there," she answered. "Ready?"

"Yeah."

She led the way out of the small apartment, locking the door behind them with one of her spare keys. It was tucked into her boot to be disposed of later, and they were on the way. A cab was hailed on the street and she slid over so he could fit next to her. It wasn't a large vehicle and his closeness was more than a little claustrophobic. Yes, that was the word she was going with.

After directing the driver to take them to the airport, they sat in silence. His hands were clasped in front of him and he seemed to have the nervous habit of wringing them together from time to time. Other than that, he appeared calm enough. "Did you talk to Steve?" she almost blurted, mainly to avoid saying something else.

He glanced up at her, taken aback, but just for a moment. Gaze fixed on his hands again, he nodded. "Yeah. He asked me to say he was sorry, and if there was anything he could do, to let him know."

Smiling slightly, she nodded and looked out the windshield at the road ahead. "I'm sure I can come up with something."

His lips turned down in a thoughtful sort of wince. "You probably saved my life." She must have looked confused because he continued. "When you stopped that king, I mean."

He seemed rather uncomfortable with the thought of owing her, but she couldn't very well explain that she was just returning a favor. Or that she'd done it more for Steve, since she wasn't entirely sure that was true. She hoped he didn't know about her visit to Wakanda. If he intended to lead the conversation that direction, she wasn't going to let him. Time to try to lighten things up.

"I bet you never expected to be rubbing elbows with royalty, let alone engaging in fisticuffs," she teased.

"Fisticuffs?" he said incredulously, amused. "How old do you think I am?"

"Very," was her straight-faced response. "I mean, you look good for you age, but still."

"Well, you know, it's true what they say about getting plenty of sleep."

She broke her façade with a snort and he grinned. "I'll keep that in mind," she answered drily as the taxi came to a stop outside the terminal. "Let's go, Barnes. I'm sure you can sleep more on the way."

"Oh, good, I'd hate to start looking my age."


	5. I'm Trying to Be Better, Working to

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **I'm trying to be better, working to understand**

He had been on a lot of planes lately, using a lot of different aliases. It was sometimes difficult to keep track of them. With HYDRA, they had just put him where he needed to be. Sometimes plans went wrong and he had to fend for himself for a few days, but he'd never had to cross long distances when left to his own devices. Plane travel was pretty unrecognizable now compared to what it had been the last time he'd been in the world. Despite his fear of heights, he generally enjoyed the ride. After all, falling from cruising altitude would in all likelihood kill him quickly. So that was easier to accept.

Natalia had politely taken the middle seat, and he was on the aisle. Some poor soul was squeezed into the window seat and was not to be envied. Although, sitting next to Natalia was no hardship. The men around them kept glancing at her before looking at him and then looking away. Until that moment, he hadn't really considered his physicality as – well, as anything positive. Since Steve was bigger than he was, it wasn't really all that impressive. And, when he'd been hiding out, it had been more of an inconvenience – something that made him stick out. But now… He felt the slightest hint of pride. Which maybe he shouldn't, given the circumstances.

They didn't do much talking on the plane, since there were ears everywhere. Not that there was a particular danger, except maybe being recognized. The authorities might hold the plane and try to arrest the two of them. However unsuccessful that was likely to be. Bucky didn't mind the silence, in any case, because it gave him some time to think.

He wasn't going to take out his notebook and add to it, but he was comparing what he remembered of her to what she was like now. There were a lot of differences. Her sense of humor had been much darker, more biting, and rare in the Red Room. But her self-confidence and directness were the same. She had been well on her way to being the best and he couldn't help but wonder what had happened to bring her here. Why had she left? Would they have seen each other again if she hadn't? Would he have known her if they had?

* * *

The flight wasn't all that long, and soon they were disembarking. Though he was bothered a little by the landing – and the crowd – he kept that to himself and followed Natalia. She was very convincing in her ability to blend in anywhere. He was sure he would give them away in some fashion, but not one stopped them or asked them any questions out the ordinary. Natalia chatted with people politely so their silence wasn't remarked, either.

A taxi took them to a hotel. "I don't own property in every country," she told him under her breath on the way over. "But I've stayed here before. It's a nice place."

He wasn't sure why she felt the need to reassure him, but he smiled in response. HYDRA had invested more in bases and laboratories than in safe houses. So most of his ops had required him to return to his handlers immediately instead of hiding out somewhere on the way. Other agents – like the Widows he'd trained – had relied more heavily on employing safe houses during missions. He was somewhat aware of the concept, but hardly expected Natalia to have one everywhere she went.

Using one of her numerous covers, Natalia got them a room and he tried not to think too much about the rooms they'd shared in the past. If she was aware of those times, she didn't show it. And he was content to wait for a sign from her.

"Well, at least there are two beds this time, hmm?" she teased lightly, tossing her bag onto one of them.

He nodded but didn't answer, remaining in the doorway while she checked the room.

"Clint's sources say she's working nights as a sort of security in a suspected AIM facility across town. So we have a couple hours before we should go check that out," Natalia explained once everything apparently passed muster.

"Alright," he assented when it became apparent that she was waiting.

She was looking at him, standing by the bed she'd claimed, an unreadable expression on her face. "So, Barnes, what do you like to do to kill time?"

"Um. Read, I guess?"

Her smile seemed genuine. "I imagine you didn't get to do much of that on your other missions."

Steve always talked around what he'd been doing for the last seventy years. Sam was more direct, though he didn't often refer to it, either. Everyone else studiously ignored where he'd gotten his skills from. So it was a relief to have her talk about it so matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, they were pretty intent on keeping me from knowing much besides what they told me," he said with a shrug, mirroring her nonchalance about the subject.

"What would they let you do?"

Smiling a little grimly, he walked over and sat on the untouched bed, then looked up at her. "I don't think keeping me entertained was particularly high in their list of priorities."

She snorted and opened her bag to rifle through it. "So you were bored a lot," she stated, not looking up.

It hadn't occurred to him before, but it was true and he smiled. "Yeah."

"Well, I'm sure missions with Steve are never boring, so I'll try to keep things interesting."

He was surprised at the sentiment, and more so when she tossed him a – what were they called? – a tablet. Catching it was automatic and his expression must have shown how he felt because she smiled again.

"There's a whole library on there. Pick something good." Pulling out her laptop, she sat on her bed and settled back against the wall.

"Thank you," he said quietly and began to browse the selection she had. It was expansive and he wondered how much time she spent reading these days. What did she do when she wasn't on a mission? In the Red Room, she would have trained – often with him – or worked on learning another language or two. After that, he had no idea. He wanted to ask her what she'd done when she left, but he didn't want to bring up something she wasn't willing to share. They'd been getting along well with minimal awkwardness so far, and he didn't want her to send him back to Steve.

So he found a book that looked interesting and read quietly while she worked on her laptop. It was distracting, having her there, making him have to reread whole paragraphs from time to time. But he managed to enjoy the story until she decided it was time to go.

Her bag contained a lot of useful things for the mission – her Stingers and Widow's Bites had made it through security somehow, as well as other less personalized tech. Neither of them had any firearms or anything more dangerous than a garrote. Except, arguably, his arm. So whatever they did would have to be at close-range. She didn't seem worried, and he wasn't, either. There weren't many people who could beat him hand-to-hand.

She went into the bathroom to change into black clothing – not the tac suit she'd worn during the fight in Leipzig, since that would be too obvious. Just black pants and jacket. Mysteriously, she tossed him a similar wardrobe and he couldn't imagine when or where she could have gotten it. But he changed as well and then they set off.

The facility was a few miles away, too far to walk, so they took a few taxis incrementally nearer. It wasn't yet sundown, which meant they were still early. Once Natalia deemed them close enough, they walked the rest of the way and set up shop in a building next door. It was mostly empty offices this time of day. Natalia got them inside easily, and they settled around a window on the third floor.

He wished he had his sniper rifle – or at least the scope. It would make keeping an eye on everyone going in or out a little easier. Not that he was much help – he didn't know what the woman looked like. But he kept that thought to himself and stayed quiet so as to not distract Natalia. It was her op and he'd do what she told him.

Suddenly, Natalia tensed, leaning forward intently. "That's her," she breathed.

There was a blond woman walking toward the guarded front door of the facility. As they watched, she spoke to the guard and was admitted inside.

"What's the plan?" he asked as Natalia adjusted the Bites on her arms.

She looked up at him with a grin. "We go in there and get her."


	6. The Changes You're Making

A/N: Thanks for reviewing!

The changes you're making to be a better man

There was no doubt in her mind that the woman was the same one she'd seen several months ago, when attempting to escape the trap they'd set for her. So Natasha couldn't help a slight feeling of unease at the prospect of facing her again. There were not many people who posed a legitimate threat to her, and she reassured herself by remembering that she had one of those people with her. Even if it might be a little more distracting than she generally preferred on a mission.

Recon had shown a few other potential entrances to the facility, so she and Barnes left the building to go check those out more closely. The first one was a bust – a window with good surveillance, possibly an alarm – but the second was a side door with one guard and no heat signatures inside. So that was the way in.

Barnes was waiting patiently behind her – for orders, she realized with mixed emotions. "This one looks good," she whispered, glancing back at him.

Nodding, he leaned forward a little to see around her. "What's the plan?"

"We take that guy out – quietly – and go through the door. Hopefully not alert anyone, but," she shrugged eloquently.

The ghost of a smile crossed his face. "But, if we do, it will just bring that woman to us instead of having to search her out."

"Exactly."

"What about any civilians?" he wanted to know.

Pausing to double-check her weaponry, she didn't answer immediately. "I don't expect any. But, if there are, we should get them out unharmed, if possible."

He nodded, setting his jaw, and she considered if this was personal in some way. Or maybe they were all personal for him now.

That line of thinking wouldn't take her anywhere it was wise to go right before getting into the fray, so she pushed the thought away. Besides, what business of it was hers so long as he was focused on the mission? Whether he chose to share his personal thoughts with her was up to him. He was ready, so it was time to get started.

Slipping out from their cover, she moved silently toward the guard. He was standing with his back against the wall, which was smart, but wasn't going to be enough to save him. Her arsenal only contained a few Stingers, which required recharging between uses, but it was a good opportunity for using one now. When she was close enough, she tossed one and it landed above the armor on his chest, bringing him down effectively.

Straightening, she looked back to signal Barnes but was startled to find him next to her. Someone of his size shouldn't be so quiet, she thought irrelevantly. He might have been smiling, but he met her gaze seriously and gave a nod. Taking a deep breath, she walked toward the door with him a step behind her. It had a finger print scan, but the unconscious guard lying just beneath it provided an easy way around that – though she had tech that could get her through such things for when there were no readily available fingers with clearance.

The door led to a small guardroom with a corridor to the right. It was always nice when there was only one option on which way to go. Silently, she led the way, passing by a few nondescript doors before the hallway opened onto a large room. Barnes automatically went to the other side of the entrance to cover her while she looked out warily.

It was empty, save for a few stacks of crates. Not even a sentry walking around. That was strange, but HYDRA tended to prefer to work in basements. So they just needed to find a way down – preferably one in which it was not easy to be trapped. With a nod toward Barnes, she walked slowly out and he followed. They crossed the expanse of the place in silence, both listening for any enemies.

There was a staircase on the north side of the room, which was a relief – she hated climbing into elevators when in these kinds of situations. Though going down stairs did leave the distinct impression of being exposed – people could see her before she could see them. But there wasn't much she could do about that except to try to get it over with quickly.

The first two floors were similar to the one on the ground, but the third was quite different. There were doors they had to get through first – with the help of her tech, since they hadn't lugged the guard along with them. Or his fingers, which would have been easier, but wasn't something she was willing to do these days.

Once through the reinforced steel doorway, they were in some kind of lab. It reminded her of the one where she'd been held captive in Beringovsky, but she only had a moment to think on that because this floor was not empty. They took cover just outside the doors because they were fired on almost immediately.

"What should we do?" Barnes asked quietly as they were both sitting pressed against the steel wall. It was a good question. They didn't have any grenades or firearms or any of the things that would be preferable in this kind of situation. From the sound of it, there were at least a dozen people in there, all armed.

"I'm open to suggestions," she replied as she considered if she could throw her Stingers with enough accuracy at this distance to be helpful.

Without answering, he stood up. Then walked through the door as though they weren't under attack. She stared for only a moment before jumping up to follow him. He was using his metal arm to deflect bullets as he headed for the HYDRA agents, who were unwisely clumped together.

Moving swiftly, she made her way around to a few of the stragglers and easily managed to take them down. Now she was armed. That put things distinctly in their favor, and she glanced up to see how Barnes was doing – and stopped. He was _fast_. She knew that – she'd fought him herself. But it was different watching him fight other people. The agents tried to avoid his metal arm but he took them down just as easily with the real one. When in similar situations, she would have been jumping and garroting and swinging around their shoulders to bring them down. The Winter Soldier didn't need any tools or tricks. He was relentless and efficient and – was done.

It was strange to see his expressionless face soften as he turned to look at her, surrounded by unconscious, possibly dead, agents. The Soldier was gone – Bucky was back. She wondered if he did that on missions with Steve, and how Steve felt about it. He wasn't likely to take it well, so maybe this was just because Bucky was with her, subconsciously remembering the old days when they'd been sent out together.

And she shouldn't have let herself get distracted because there were civilians here – in cages like her scientist had been. Only four of them, and they barely looked roughed up from their stay with HYDRA. So mostly they looked surprised and kept glancing at Barnes nervously as she hurried over to them.

"Hey, I'm going to get you out of here," she told them, in English because she wasn't sure what language they'd speak.

The crackle of an intercom interrupted her, and she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach when she heard a laugh. "Natalia Romanova, what a pleasant surprise," a woman's voice spoke to her in Russian.

"I'm happy to see you too," she responded, stepping back to look around for cameras. "Or would be, if I could."

"I'm sure. And how kind of you to bring me such a nice present," the woman continued. "My masters will be so happy to hear that I have two traitors in my keeping."

She glanced at Barnes and hated herself for the fear in his eyes. Though he met her gaze with a resilient expression. The Winter Soldier had never been afraid – not that she'd seen, anyway. Which meant he'd never been particularly brave, either. Bucky was different, but she could wax poetical on those differences later, after she got him out of here.

The elevator dinged and the blond woman stepped out. She was younger than Natasha, and seemed very confident. But she had reason to – she was holding a little red book with a black star on it.

"How about a story, Romanova? Once upon a time, there was a Black Widow. And she was the best the Red Room could offer. But then she turned disloyal, dragging down their best asset with her. And when she'd been given a second chance, she betrayed everything they'd done for her. For years, she worked against the people who'd raised her. Did you really think they'd just take that lying down?" she asked, walking casually forward, smiling coolly.

Natasha and Barnes were frozen, watching her – what else was in that book? Had her efforts gotten rid of the trigger words entirely or might she be about to be truly in over her head? If the woman could control him, she didn't stand a chance.

"And who are you? My replacement?" she inquired politely.

"Yelena Belova. It's an honor to meet you when you're at your best. I've been waiting for this a long time."

"Drop that book and come with us quietly, and I won't have to show you why they could never replace me," Natasha answered flatly, leveling her stolen gun at Yelena.

That just broadened the smile on the other woman's face before she turned her attention to Barnes. "My apologies for being so rude, Soldat. I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of each other later." With that, she launched into the words that Zemo had used.

Natasha looked at Barnes warily and he was afraid for only a moment before he smiled. "That's not going to work anymore," he said.

Yelena was thrown briefly before her smirk returned. "Fine. Спутник."

Natasha was frowning and considering a reply when Barnes collapsed – just asleep, certainly, she reassured herself, but was shaken. There wasn't supposed to be anything left for them to do to him. She had to get him out of here. So she pulled the trigger.

Yelena was fast, too, but not fast enough. A bullet knocked the book from her hand, and then she got angry. She launched herself at Natasha, kicked the gun away, and they fought.


	7. I'm Still Listening, I'm Still Loving

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **I'm still listening, I'm still loving**

Natalia was good. He'd known that already, but it was different actually being in the field with her again. It was her show this time and he was just backup – barely needed backup. He preferred it that way. When she asked him for help because they were under fire, he was happy enough to take care of it in the way he'd been trained to do.

But then that woman showed up – and she'd had the book. And even though he knew Natalia and N'Kana had done what they could to get rid of the stuff in his head, he was terrified. He caught Natalia's eye and she looked so guilty that he almost smiled. Whatever this person could do to him, Natalia would do her best to protect him. And he just hoped that there was no way to make him hurt her.

Then the woman – Belova? – said that word and everything went black.

* * *

When he woke up, he was confused. Though, realistically, that was frequently the case these days. It was dark in the room and he was lying on a bed. There was a shadow in the corner – Natalia. They were in their hotel. It looked like she had a black eye and a few cuts on her face.

He sat up abruptly, startling her. "What happened?"

Standing slowly, she turned on the light next to her and she did indeed look roughed up. "I kept the upper hand long enough for her to decide to run for it," was her tired explanation.

He wanted to touch her face, or do something comforting, but he didn't. "I'm sorry," he began.

"Don't be," she told him firmly, hesitantly sitting down at the foot of his bed.

Obligingly pulling his legs out of her way, he regarded her. "If it weren't for me, you could have caught her," he insisted.

"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have gotten in."

"I doubt that."

She smiled slightly and looked away, that guilty expression on her face again.

"Natalia… It wasn't your fault. I'm fine, really," he reassured her awkwardly.

Her gaze flickered to him and away again while she pursed her lips. "I shouldn't have put you in this situation."

Wishing he wasn't sitting in bed like an invalid, he frowned – at her, at the situation, at all the things he wanted to say but couldn't. "I don't need protecting, Natalia."

"Everyone needs it sometimes," she told him and he reconsidered.

That was true. "You know, I'm always trying to tell Steve that," he offered in an attempt to lighten the mood.

A slight smile crossed her face, and he had the sinking feeling that it was because she was thinking about Steve. "He's pretty stubborn," she agreed distantly. Then she looked him in the eye. "Maybe you should go back to him."

"And leave you alone?" he asked sharply.

"I'll call for backup. I'll get that book back." Her expression was sincere, intense, and he had no doubt that she would do just that.

It was a tempting offer. The words didn't work anymore, but there were surely other nasty things that Karpov would have written down in that book. It hadn't seemed like Belova was particularly bothered by his lack of reaction to the words. So there would be other tricks up her sleeve. Especially if she was intending to be the new Black Widow.

More importantly, Natalia had managed to fend the woman off. And, if it weren't for the need to save his ass, might have been able to capture her. She would certainly be successful if her partner wasn't such a liability. So, logically, it would be better for him to go.

Except he didn't want to leave her. This wasn't like the old days – it wasn't even like when she'd been an Avenger. She'd lost her team and he could tell she was still upset by it. Still hurting. Compromised, as their handlers would have said. Sitting there at the end of his bed, looking toward the window, she seemed so tired. Sick of fighting. He could understand that feeling and would do anything to help ease it.

"If you want me to go, I'll go," he said quietly. "But I… I wouldn't be against staying. To help you."

A strange look flickered over her face and she stood up abruptly. "I'm starving. Let's eat and then we can figure out our next move, James," she suggested.

"Alright," he replied, a little surprised by her reaction. Something new to add to his list, maybe – 'doesn't like people doing things for her.'

It was a relief to leave the oppressive hotel room and be back outside. He always felt better when he could stand in the sun. They walked a few blocks until they found a restaurant. Neither of them were particularly familiar with the kind of food they made here in Rhapastan, but it smelled good. And the staff spoke English.

Natalia chatted easily and made them seem like a couple of tourists – gullible tourists. He didn't do anything to dissuade their hosts of that notion, though if it probably cost them a bit financially. But it was a pleasure watching her – she always seemed to fit into her surroundings. It had been a skill of hers back when they met, and she was even better now.

She must have put on some makeup or something because she no longer looked like she'd been in a tough fight earlier today. Instead of her mission clothes she was wearing a regular t-shirt and jeans. Her hair was down – but it was always down now. He hadn't seen any photographs of it up since she'd left the Red Room. All the Widows had kept their hair up for efficiency purposes. It was such a little thing, but he was struck with the thought of how much had changed since he'd known her before. Maybe too much for his previous experiences with her to be worth anything.

"Hey, James, you done?"

Blinking, he was surprised to find her looking at him intently. "Um, sure," he replied awkwardly.

She cocked her head at him thoughtfully. Her own plate was empty and the staff was looking impatient. He hastily ate the last few bites and got to his feet, uncomfortable at the idea of her being able to read what he was thinking – she seemed to do it so well with everyone else, why not with him?

Thanking the owner, she led the way out the door but seemed in no hurry to return to the hotel. Instead, her pace was meandering and her expression was serene. It distracted him enough to forget his earlier worries, and he smiled at her. When he'd caught up with her, she slid her arm under his and leaned against him, making his heart pound.

"That was a HYDRA front. We shouldn't go straight back to our hotel," she murmured, still smiling.

He stiffened but forced himself to act as relaxed as she was. Or, at least, reasonably close. "What should we do?"

"Take the long way around, double-back when we're sure no one's following us."

Nodding, he tried to focus on that instead of her closeness. They walked for a long time, shopping occasionally and Natalia really sold the tourist thing. He managed to avoid arousing suspicion, at least. It was a challenge to pay attention to anything else when she was holding his arm, smiling at him, acting like they were closer than they really were.

But finally they got back to the hotel and he felt an intense mixture of relief and loss when she dropped the façade. "How did you know?" he asked as she gave their room a quick scan to determine if it was still safe enough.

"The cook in the back was one of the agents you knocked out. I don't think he recognized you," she added quickly, reassuringly.

"Oh. Good."

Satisfied with the results of the scan, she dropped onto her bed to take off her boots. "It helps to actually pay attention to your surroundings, James," she continued with a smirk.

"Hey, I was paying attention," he insisted.

"Yeah? To what?"

He looked away, unwilling to answer.

"James?" Her tone was concerned and he glanced at her again.

"I was just…" He cleared his throat. "I was just wondering why you never dye your hair." That surprised a laugh out of her, and he smiled as though it were a joke and not what he'd actually been thinking. "I mean, you're on the run. Might be kinda helpful not to be so recognizable, you know?"

"Yeah? Is that why you didn't shave or cut your hair for two years?" she shot back, grinning.

He didn't want the mood to change, but he sobered anyway. "If I did that, I'd still look like someone recognizable," he explained quietly.

"Of course," she said quickly, soothingly. "So, James, what's your plan for the morning?"

Her tone was business-like and he had no idea if she cared one way or the other. But he did. "I'd like to help you find and capture Belova."

"Good answer," she replied with a slight smile. "Get some sleep, then, we're leaving early."


	8. I'm Still Listening, We're Still Struggl

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **I'm still listening, we're still struggling**

So Barnes was staying. That was good – it meant he didn't blame her for what happened. And hopefully meant that there wasn't much else in that book about which they should be concerned.

She let herself be relieved that he was going to stay but wouldn't be anything more than that. There was work to do and she couldn't get distracted by ghosts from her past. He wasn't the Winter Soldier anymore. And she had no right to be disappointed by that. Besides, getting to know Bucky better was intriguing. He was like the Soldier, but also very much not like the Soldier. It was strange to consider how they'd basically carved out his memories and his personality, but what remained was still distinctly the same man.

So she recognized this new person as a more fleshed-out version of the one she'd known all those years ago. And, if she was being honest, she supposed she was also a more fleshed-out version of whom she'd been back then. Not that he'd shown any signs of remembering. His comment about her hair was a bit odd, but it made sense that he would have been keeping tabs on Steve. And wondering about the woman he spent time with was part of that.

There was no reason to think anything else was going on. And if there were… While she showered, it occurred to her that he might be inexplicably interested in her without knowing about their history. What would she do if that were the case? She'd have to tell him. Let him know how it ended and suggest his feelings were just residuals from then.

Romance wasn't an option for her. You don't get raised under Red Room conditions and end up able to trust anyone to get close to you. She'd tried with Banner, but, well, she'd had a closer connection to the Other Guy. Which made sense – relating more to a monster. Whether Madame B and the others had made her that way, or whether it was just in her nature was a mystery. An irrelevant mystery.

Bucky Barnes was not a monster. The Winter Soldier might have been, but he was gone now. It would be too selfish for her to want him to come back just because she missed connecting with someone. So she would work with Barnes, maybe become friends, and then send him back to Steve.

* * *

Natasha spent another sleepless night going over intel and searching for where Yelena might go to ground. There were a number of options, she narrowed it down to a half dozen. A place to start, anyway. At dawn, she woke Barnes and they left Rhapastan, heading for Porto, Portugal. Her last mission for Fury had suggested the place, and the intel she was able to gather indicated it was suspicious. She'd sent a message to Nick asking him for any more information he might have, but hadn't heard back yet.

It was early afternoon when they arrived in the city. She'd been mentally practicing her Portuguese – it hadn't been one of the high priority languages in her youth and she'd always struggled a little with it. Same with Spanish and Italian – they were similar enough for her to get mixed up sometimes. Not to mention that her Russian handlers hadn't considered any of them overly important, no doubt for some political reason.

Barnes was a very quiet travel companion. He only spoke when spoken to and always seemed to be trying to make himself smaller. Like Steve usually did when he wasn't being Captain America. She didn't think it was a holdover from their upbringing – she figured it was because neither were used to or comfortable with their size. The bitter thought occurred to her that she was all too aware of how someone else making physical changes to your body could alter your mindset.

There was no safe house in Portugal, so she found them a hotel. She always stayed in nice hotels, preferably the kind that rich people might use for assignations and/or coke weekends, so the staff weren't going to ask any questions, while the seedy people she was generally following wouldn't be admitted. It wasn't a perfect system, but she figured she might as well be comfortable while she was risking her life.

Their room was more of a suite with a lounge area and big windows. Barnes paused in the doorway, taken aback, but she walked in like it was familiar. Which it sort of was – hotels all looked the same after a while. He went to the window and looked out while she scanned the room.

"When I was a kid, I never would have thought I'd be somewhere like this," he said quietly as he took in the view of the bay.

"No?" she asked with a smile.

He glanced over at her for a moment with a rueful expression. "Yeah. Hell, I can barely believe it now."

Joining him at the window, she considered a response. "It's not what people in our line of work generally get to enjoy," she agreed thoughtfully.

His attention turned to her and she was suddenly very aware of how close she was standing – it took an effort to look up at him without taking a step back. He was watching her intently, seeming like he wanted to say something. She couldn't imagine what that might be, and was torn between wanting to hear him out and wanting to forestall dealing with whatever he might say.

"Do you… usually spend time in places like this?" he asked softly – definitely not what she was expecting.

"Sometimes," she answered.

"If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?"

The intensity of his gaze made a little more sense now – it was a personal question. And no doubt one which he'd had to think about a great deal. "Pokrov." She hadn't planned on telling the truth, but it was unusually easy to trust him with it – something she might need to be careful of in the future.

His brow furrowed slightly. "That's near Moscow, isn't it?" She nodded. "It's where you're from?" he added gently.

She pressed her lips together briefly. "I'm not sure. It's where my parents are buried."

"Oh." He was staring past her as though this information was a lot to take in.

"Where would you go?" she prompted.

Blinking, he focused on her again. "I don't know," he replied with a shrug and slight smile. "Most of the places I knew aren't there anymore."

"James, I –"

It was fortunate that her phone rang at that moment because she wasn't sure what she was going to say. What she might have been foolish enough to say.

"Romanoff," she said as she turned away from the window.

"You'll have to go up the river. There's a warehouse owned by one of Kronas' subsidiaries. Seems a few more scientists have gone missing lately and one was spotted in the area. Even if she's not there, you can rescue these guys," Fury told her without preamble.

"Yes, sir."

There was a pause. "We couldn't find much on Belova but I've got some of my best people on it. If there's anything out there, we'll find it."

"Thank you," she told him earnestly. He hung up and she put her phone away, aware that Barnes hadn't moved. "Shall we go scope the place out, James?"

"Sure. What place?" he asked, turning from the window to face her again.

"I was escorting a scientist out of Korea when he was kidnapped a few months back. I found him and some others being held captive by a front called Kronas. Lukin was heading the operation. He's in custody, but looks like Yelena's keeping things going because more scientists have disappeared. One was seen near here, and there's a warehouse owned by a Kronas offshoot just up the river," she explained.

He nodded. "So what's the plan?"

Shrugging, she grabbed her coat. "We go do some recon, grab lunch, come back for an afternoon nap, then go as soon as it's dark?"

"Sounds good," he replied with a smile.

* * *

The place was not hard to find, and looked easy enough to get into. There were a few entrances, a handful of guards, and no obvious tech to keep them out. Lunch was bacalhau and then they were back at the hotel. Tired as she was, it took some time to fall asleep. She was just about to drop off when she heard something she'd hoped never to hear again.

Screaming. That unending, agonized screaming that she thought he'd only do when they put him in that machine. But apparently dreams about it were just as effective.

She sat up abruptly, then slowly climbed out of bed, watching him writhe. "James. Bucky. James," she tried quietly, soothingly as she moved closer. It could be dangerous to get too close and she was considering what to do when he froze.

He jumped out of bed as though it burned him and almost ran into her. "Natalia?" he asked, blinking.

"Just a nightmare," she told him.

Dropping back down heavily, he pulled his knees against his chest and buried his face in his arms. Hesitantly, she sat down next to him and touched his back. When he didn't recoil, she slowly ran her hand along his shoulders comfortingly.

"It's alright, you're safe now." If he'd had nightmares when they'd known each other before, she hadn't been aware. She was suddenly reminded of her own sleeplessness back then, and how he'd helped her to relax enough to rest. Which made it difficult to focus on the present.

"Natalia, I – I'm sorry," he murmured, voice rough.

She leaned against him lightly. "It's fine, James. Happens to all of us," she assured him.

"Even you?" he asked, looking up at her sharply.

"Yes, James. Even me," she told him with a grim smile. "We still have a few hours before we need to go, but we can get out of this room if you think it would help."

"I'll be fine." Despite his insistence, she could tell he wasn't as he stared at the blanket in front of him. Slowly she got to her feet and returned to her own bed, to try in vain to get some sleep.


	9. Hard Truce Biting My Heels

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Hard truce biting my heels**

The nightmares were decreasing in frequency these days, but weren't gone. He woke up screaming about once a week. Something Steve and the others never mentioned. But then, he was rarely sleeping in the same room as any of them. Having Natalia there was comforting but served as a reminder of how messed up he was compared to her. Even if she claimed to have nightmares as well, he didn't imagine she awoke screaming and terrified. She never had before.

So he stayed silent and motionless while he waited for her to wake up and say it was time to go. His thoughts wandered aimlessly, putting together his memories in a cohesive order. Nothing was gone – just confusing and inexplicable sometimes. Writing them down had really helped give context to everything. Now it was just an exercise to keep his mind busy and not dwell on anything in particular. Not focus on something that might make him want to keep screaming.

Finally, Natalia got up and turned on the light. After a moment, he pulled himself out of bed, troubled by the ache in his bones. Putting on his mission gear was harder than usual as he moved stiffly and Natalia was watching him by the time he was ready.

"You alright?" she asked.

"I'll be fine," he insisted for the second time that afternoon, rotating his left arm subconsciously.

"Did it hurt?"

Her question felt rushed, like she hadn't intended to ask, and she looked momentarily like she wanted to take it back. "What do you mean?"

She licked her lips, glancing away from him. "When you got the new one, I guess."

"No. They did a good job. Just, uh, just some scar tissue gives me a hard time," he explained.

"Did it hurt when… when you lost it?" she asked quietly. When she glanced up, he must have looked surprised because she hastily continued. "In Siberia."

"Oh. Yes."

He could tell she was trying to decide whether to keep asking about this or not and he waited patiently for her to make up her mind. If she wanted to know more about him, he was going to tell her. Maybe it was stupid, but that's what he was going to do.

"How much can you feel with it?" she was asking and he was forcibly reminded of her asking something similar back when they were first together.

But the context was different now. "It's as sensitive as my other hand, I think."

"Then how can you stop bullets with it?"

He fought back a smile at her look of concern. "The receptors are dampened after a certain threshold of force."

This was apparently something for her to consider, as she fell silent for a few moments. "They don't shut down? So it was just a slightly less painful version of Stark shooting your other arm off?"

Her directness was continuing to be a nice change from how Steve usually acted – more like Sam. Though Sam was generally only direct when it was something to tease him about. God, if he knew about Natalia, he'd have a field day.

Clearing his throat, he pulled on his gloves. "That part wasn't so bad," he offered.

"Then what was?"

He met her gaze levelly. "The burning." It took her a moment to follow, then she looked horrified. Having a super-heated hunk of metal grafted onto you wasn't an ideal situation, regardless of whether or not the pain of losing your arm was still coming through the sensors.

"James, I'm so sorry," she told him and he wasn't sure if she meant because it happened or for asking.

"It's fine, Natalia. Let's get going."

Her expression changed back to its usual, business-like façade, and she hastened to grab her things. Then she led the way out of the room and down to a taxi. The sun was just setting as they headed up the river to the warehouse, getting dropped off a few blocks away. He was relieved not to see concern or pity on her face again, nor did she treat him deferentially after what he'd told her. Which was one of the reasons he'd been willing to tell her.

Breaking into the place was easy enough, and he was reminded of the last mission with Steve because of the piles of crates piled haphazardly all around the ground floor. Natalia used her phone to scan them but nothing popped, so they found the stairs. As with the last facility, the bottom floor was blocked off by a finger-print scan.

"Ready?" she murmured as she hooked up her phone to the keypad.

There had been a few sentries to knock out on the way here but nothing major. If this continued to be like the last base, there were likely a lot of people in here. Sometimes he wished HYDRA would change things up a bit. "Yes."

She got the door open and they moved silently to look in. It was empty, so he supposed he should be careful what he wished for – this was clearly a change but probably not a good one. They rarely were, in his experience. They searched the premises and found a computer bay. Natalia plugged something into one of them and they waited tensely while she downloaded information. Computers weren't completely alien to him, but not something he used all that often, so it was interesting watching her navigate to get what she wanted from it.

When it was done, they searched the rest of the building. There were labs and cells that looked like they had been cleared out recently. Natalia frowned at them as though willing them to explain themselves.

"Don't tell me that accountant grew a spine," she muttered to herself.

He considered whether or not he should respond to the non sequitur. "Alright, I won't."

She flashed him a smile then kept walking, both of them on guard for any agents that might still be around. "I was questioning a guy earlier. He said there was a base in Portugal, but he wasn't any more specific than that. Guys like that are usually too afraid of being punished for talking so they don't tell anyone that they were questioned."

"I guess this guy was different."

"I guess," she agreed with a shrug. "Well, this is a bust. Let's head back to the hotel."

Leaving the building proved even easier than entering it, and soon they were in the cool night air. "Well, it wasn't a total loss," he suggested, concerned at her dour expression.

"No?"

"You got some good intel off that computer."

"Excellent point, James," she replied thoughtfully. "Well, I got intel off of it. We'll see if it was any good when we get back."

She didn't seem convinced and he considered what else to say. "She won't be one step ahead of you for long."

That made her stop and look at him. "How can you be sure?"

"You're the Black Widow. You're a legend. No matter who trained her, she has a long way to go to catch up to you," he told her.

She smiled genuinely – a rare sight and it took his breath away. "I'm sure you use lines like that on all the ladies."

That got a laugh out of him. "Yes, all the time. Was it too rehearsed?"

"Definitely. I can tell you've been practicing it in the mirror. You'll have to try a little harder next time."

"I can do that," he said, looking at her intently, and she paused, uncertain.

Then she cleared her throat and kept walking. "So. Hungry or should we just head back?"

"I'm up for whatever you want, Natalia."

Her gaze flickered to him, trying to read between the lines. And he hoped she would. "Dinner it is, then," she said lightly and he nodded.


	10. These Root Have No Home

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **These roots have no home**

Though some of the information yielded from the Portugal mission was useful, it was mostly a bust. The same could be said for the facilities in the Czech Republic and Poland. The places they were infiltrating looked hastily cleared out and the intel she could resurrect from the hard drives was not particularly helpful. In fact, it was feeling more and more like they were on a wild goose chase.

Good thing Barnes was there – a solo mission like this would have made her start to doubt herself. He voiced the same opinions she had about what they found, so that went a long way toward reassuring her. It wasn't like being on a mission with Clint or with Steve. More like with Clint – Barnes thought more like a spy than Steve did. But it was a different experience, having someone there who was always on the same page. It had taken a while for her to get that way with anyone else – and this was the first time they'd spent any significant time together.

There was the Red Room, of course, but who knew if he remembered that? Besides, they weren't the same people they'd been then. Or that's what she kept telling herself, whenever he gave her that look. The look where he just regarded her, watching her thoughtfully with those big eyes, waiting for something or content to stare at her forever, she didn't know. It was unsettling, to say the least.

She'd been over this. Even if he remembered, it wouldn't be the same now. What, were they going to sneak around and not tell anyone? Although… it would be safer this time, because even if someone found out, it wasn't like they'd be punished for it. So, actually, that was tempting.

But it wasn't exactly something one would just bring up, so she let it go. If she wanted this (did she?), it would have to be a step toward normalcy, not away from it. And she'd had enough upheaval in the last couple years.

Focusing on the mission at hand, Yelena was avoiding them easily. Which was concerning, because Natasha had always been able to find the people for whom she was looking. Barnes had faith in her – but better not think about that right now. The intelligence she'd been able to gather indicated that AIM or HYDRA or whatever Lukin was calling his current organization was taking lab scientists to harness a radioactive material. What exactly their intentions were after that was not clear.

Fury had sent her a list of names of other scientists who had disappeared. They were all in the same field but were taken using a variety of methods, from labs all over the world. She didn't expect that they would provide much in the way of leads. But there were alerts out for them, so, if they were spotted, she would get word. And potentially have another place to investigate.

The fourth place they went to search was in Brussels. Barnes seemed more comfortable with flying now than he had been on the first few flights they had shared. There was a safe house here and she led the way there once they landed. It was late and she was tired. Tired of chasing someone who didn't want to be found – someone who thought replacing her was an option. What if she could? What if Natasha Romanoff was obsolete?

Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Assuming Yelena didn't think it necessary to kill her in order to take over the title. She could settle down somewhere, take up a hobby or two, live like a normal person. Tempting as the idea was, she couldn't face the reality that she probably wouldn't be good at it, that normal people would be able to spot her ruse quickly. This was what she could do, and do well, so she would just keep doing it. Until she couldn't anymore. But retirement wasn't something most spies had the luxury of considering.

"I think I've been here before," Barnes said suddenly, stopping.

She turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "You think so?"

"Yeah." He paused to consider. "Not as – not recently. In the war, maybe."

"I'm sure it's changed quite a bit," she offered when he didn't continue.

He was staring intently at the alleyway, clearly not in the present. She waited to see if he would snap out of it. When he did, he glanced at her quickly then looked away, the flicker of a smile on his face. "Sorry, let's go."

As she kept walking, she considered whether or not to press him about what happened. Curiosity won over circumspection. "What was all that?"

"Just remembering some things."

"Nice things?"

His smile returned. "There was a girl in the Resistance."

"Ah," she managed to say in a knowing tone.

"She was nice. Pretty redhead. Never was sure if she liked me or was just glad I was there to help out."

His tone was more amused than anything else, but she didn't think it wise to look at him. Not until she was sure of herself again. "Yeah? You didn't pursue her after?" She didn't know what exactly he would have been doing in Brussels – was it during the Occupation?

He cleared his throat. "Might have, if I had lived much longer," he replied blandly.

"That would put a damper on a relationship," she agreed.

"Yeah. Do you ever, uh, do that?"

It sounded like he wanted to take it back, and she glanced back to confirm – he looked uncomfortable. "Do what? Die? Not so far. Put dampers on relationships? Probably more often than I realize."

He smiled self-effacingly. "Right. I meant, you know, date anyone."

"Why do you ask?"

After a moment of consideration, he took a deep breath and she was terrified of what he might say. "I kinda thought you and Steve might be a thing. Before. And Barton's married, so I … I was just curious," he ended lamely, looking away.

It was rare that someone asked her about her personal life. She kept it to herself. Those trusted enough to know anything about her were rare and valued what confidences she was willing to bestow – they didn't ask for more. She knew she was a hard person to get a read on, and that was an important part of her job. But James was standing there awkwardly, glancing up at her like he was afraid she'd send him packing for it.

They had reached her door and she set about opening it. He seemed to relax a little when she didn't say anything. "There was almost a thing with Bruce Banner before he left," she told him quietly as she finished with the lock. "But I do better alone."

It took him a moment to follow, clearly surprised. He caught up with her and shut the door behind them, barely glancing around at the dusty place. "Are you sure about that?"

His voice was just as quiet as hers had been and her breath caught in her throat. She forced herself to keep scanning, to make sure they would be safe. At least from any external threats. It was already late – they had work to do. Pursuing this conversation would be dangerous and make them even later. So, when the scan was done, she pulled her weapons out of her bag.

"I don't know. But we'd better get a move on if we're going to be done before dawn," she warned him. He nodded and she forced herself to ignore his disappointed expression.

* * *

The place they were investigating was a warehouse – all of them had been. It was a little different this time, however. For one thing, it wasn't empty. For another, there were a lot more prisoners – scientists – held in cages on the second floor down. By the time they got down there, they had taken out four sentries and six guards. An alarm started to sound just as she was starting to work on the lock.

"Oh, perfect," she muttered.

"I'll cover you," Barnes insisted, turning his back to her so he could face the door.

"Hey, scientists. Any of you seen a blond woman, about my height?" she called over the noise, her hands busy with the door.

The resulting cacophony of at least five different languages was a bit hard to follow, but was clearly a yes. Yelena was not particularly popular with this crowd. As the lock snapped open, she was able to glean that Yelena was likely just downstairs. Then the doors opened and AIM agents poured in. So things were busy for a few minutes until she and Barnes had made short work of them.

"Where do they find these guys?" she wondered in disgust. Her masters would never have sent out people so woefully unprepared to defend themselves.

"Maybe they grow 'em," Barnes suggested, causing her to smile at the thought. "Yelena's here, it sounds like. What's the plan?"

"You get the civilians to safety. I'll go get her."

He didn't like that idea, but he nodded. Reinforcements were likely on the way, so the window for escape was short. Especially as AIM tended to booby trap their facilities and who knew how long the building would be intact? Not to mention Yelena still had that book, so getting Barnes out of here was preferable. She turned to head for the stairs when he caught her arm gently. "Hey. Be careful, Natalia," he murmured, looking her in the eye.

"I will," she promised in surprise. With a nod, he released her, and they split up. She took the stairs two at a time, but the training rooms and office below were empty. Jogging along, she saw that there was a door just swinging shut – she didn't know where it went, but she ran for it. Once through, she was in a poorly-lit concrete corridor. And she was not alone.

Yelena had a few guards, but she sent them on ahead and turned to face Natasha. "I thought I was at least a couple hours ahead of you," she said with a smile.

"Maybe you should reconsider your goal here, because speed is a pretty vital part of being the Widow," she replied, approaching warily.

"Not a chance, Natalia. I've worked too hard for this."

"Then you're pretty misinformed about what the job requires," was her bitter response.

Yelena just continued to smile. "Come show me, then."

Natasha wasn't one to be baited by an opponent, but it was with a certain degree of pleasure that she closed the distance between them to attack. Yelena was ready, of course, but underestimated the power Natasha could unleash. Driven back a few feet, Yelena's smile disappeared as she focused and she was able to counter the second assault more effectively.

It was strange to fight someone with her own style again. Not since the Red Room had she faced anyone with the same moves. So it was more like a dance than anything else. Anyone watching might have enjoyed it. Yelena landed as many blows as she did, and both were tiring out and in pain. Their attacks and counterattacks had moved them along the corridor, past where Yelena's guards were waiting by a helicopter, and to the edge of the frozen Zenne that ran alongside the facility.

Natasha made contact with a particularly hard kick, and Yelena was driven back a meter or so. Both paused to catch their respective breaths. "I don't want to kill you, Natalia," Yelena said suddenly, as though she were winning.

"You won't," Natasha reassured her.

Smiling grimly, Yelena pushed a button on her belt. An explosion could be heard from the warehouse, and she looked there sharply, worried about James. Yelena took advantage of her distraction to kick her, knocking her over the handrail and onto the frozen surface of the river. Settling her footing, Natasha looked up with a smile, about to taunt the other woman. But Yelena pressed a different button and suddenly there was an explosion under the ice. She had a moment to try to jump for land before everything plunged into the water.


	11. The Only Way I Know You Love Me

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **The only way I know you love me**

The scientists were all safely outside the building when it exploded. He hadn't been expecting it, and was afraid for Natalia. Had she gotten out? Taking in their surroundings, he saw a helicopter lifting off – piloted by a familiar blond woman. Figuring the civilians were safe enough, he ran toward where the chopper had been. The icy river was churning from something, and he had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Sprinting downriver, he watched the water as closely as he could. There – had to be her. It took some work to get ahead of her and wait until – he punched through the ice with his left hand. She was still conscious because she grabbed onto it, albeit weakly. He heaved her up and away from the water and rapidly breaking ice.

Sprawled on the shore, he watched as she pulled herself up enough to cough out some water. He sat up and put his right hand hesitantly on her back. When she'd finished, she leaned back against him, shivering. Wrapping his arm around her made him wish he had a blanket or something more helpful.

"Well, I hope you were more successful with your half of the mission than I was," she said, sounding remarkably calm.

His smile was intense with relief and he wanted to – to kiss her. But, no, that might be inappropriate. Especially since she was still coughing. "It did," he managed to say, and she smiled slightly and closed her eyes.

After a much too short length of time, she pulled away from him slowly. "We should go question them."

"We should go somewhere to get you warm," he countered.

She smiled at him – a hard thing to resist. "I'm warm enough. I may not be the Winter Soldier, but I've trained in extreme temperatures," she told him wanly.

God, she was frustrating. And adorable when she said his code name in that mocking tone of hers. He was too distracted to keep arguing, so she got up and started walking. Hastily, he got to his feet and caught up with her. She was still trembling a little, so he took off his coat and settled it around her shoulders.

That made her stop in her tracks – but only for a moment. "Thank you," she murmured.

"Can't have you freeze to death because of your own stubbornness," he replied lightly.

She flashed him a grin. "I only use my stubbornness for good, Barnes. Like refusing to freeze to death when my enemies try to make me."

"Sounds like a good system." Nodding, she pulled his coat a little tighter around herself subconsciously and seemed intent on walking. The snow was deep and it was good they both were wearing boots.

Authorities were arriving in the scene, but they managed to slip through the growing crowd and get close to the former prisoners. Natalia moved quietly among them, asking questions while he watched the police to see if any of them intended to start rounding up the witnesses. There was still the fire in the warehouse to contain, and the occasional explosion, most likely set off by the fire and not more traps. But they were being cautious. So Natalia had some time before they needed to leave.

There hadn't been another explosion in about fifteen minutes when she walked away from the scientists and over to where he was waiting. Without any hesitation, she slipped her arm under his, warming him instantly. Her face was pale and she was shivering as she pulled him along back toward the safe house.

He worried about what to do to warm her up the whole walk and was surprised by how quickly they got back. Once inside, she headed over to the window and looked out.

"Hey, how about something warm to drink?" he asked awkwardly. She gave the barest of nods, and he left to search the kitchen. There was some canned soup as well as instant tea and hot chocolate. He didn't know what she liked, so he heated up some of everything. It was clear that the place hadn't been used in a while and he let the tap run for a bit before pouring the water into the kettle.

When it was pretty close to ready, he went back to the living room and was concerned to find her still standing there. He had expected she would at least go change, if not take a shower or a bath or something. Hesitantly, he walked up next to her to look outside at the snow. It wasn't falling – it was pretty warm for this time of year. The river hadn't taken much prompting for the ice to break.

"Natalia," he murmured, uncertain of what question to ask her.

She turned to look up at him, her gaze intense enough to make him swallow nervously. "I've been making mistakes. I don't know what they were, but I want to apologize for dragging you into all of this," she continued, directing her attention back out the window as she rubbed her arms absently.

Slowly, telegraphing his movements, he reached out to take hold of her shoulders and turn her gently away from the window and toward him, not letting go. "It's not your fault," he told her firmly.

"Isn't it?" she asked simply.

"I'm here because I want to be, Natalia."

She bit her lip and looked away abruptly, like she might cry. "Why?" she whispered.

This wasn't the time to say the real reason. Not with her like this, not when there were more pressing matters. Or maybe he was just a coward. "Whatever else we are, Natalia, let me be your friend."

Clearly surprised, she glanced up at him then away before taking a hesitant step forward and leaning her head against his chest. "I can't beat her."

It was an effort to resist taking her into his arms and he held very still to keep from spooking her. She'd been like that before, he thought – always wary of showing any emotion. Of letting anyone get close. She had good reason for it and he was touched by how trusting she was being. "I know you can," he insisted.

"How?" She raised her head to look him in the eye and he reached up with his real hand to brush a wet strand of hair out of her face.

"I don't know," he said with a slight smile. "But you always amaze me."

Her smile was watery but it made his heart pound. "I suppose I'll have to figure out something. I'd hate to disappoint," she added, her teasing tone at odds with the almost shy expression she was wearing.

"You won't." The moment stretched and he waited for some kind of sign from her – to either back off or that she was okay with this. With him.

"I, uh, should go get changed," she said suddenly, taking a step back. He didn't say anything but he was aware that his face probably fell at her reaction. "Thank you for this, James. It was a real life saver," she continued, distancing herself as she took off his coat and held it out. "I hope you weren't too cold."

"I'm always cold."

A look of uncertainty passed over her face before he grabbed the coat from her. With an almost apologetic smile, she walked away and he watched her silently. He had been thinking that… that the conversation hadn't been heading this way. Maybe he'd misread the situation. How did she think of him? There had to be some level of trust or she would have left him in Odessa. Or any of the places since then. And, given that she rarely trusted other people, he thought he was making headway.

So maybe he was just a useful sort of person to have around. Maybe she found him pleasant enough but was sticking with her ideas about romance having no place in her life. And maybe she was right about that. Maybe it was stupid of him to be even considering such a thing. It wasn't working out too well for anyone else he knew. Barton and Lang were separated from their families, Steve and Wanda were unlikely to see their respective interests, being on the other side of the law from them. But at least international laws weren't keeping he and Natalia apart. Only she was.

He wasn't going to fight her – if she didn't want him, he understood. But he couldn't tell what she wanted. She would have to say something, either way. Knowing her, it probably meant he would have to say something first. Though perhaps the middle of this mission wasn't the best time. It was already hitting home for her a bit too much. He didn't need to make it more personal.

* * *

After a while, she came into the kitchen where he was idly stirring the soup. Her face lit up at the sight of it and he was instantly willing to forgive her avoidance earlier. "It smells delicious. I did not know you could cook."

"It's just from concentrate. Though I was cooking quite a bit in Bucharest," he added.

She pulled out a couple of bowls and stood close to him to peer into the pot. "Look at you, with all these hidden talents."

"I'm sure you have a few of those, too." He took the bowls from her and ladled out a good portion for each of them.

"Yeah, well, maybe, but cooking definitely isn't one of them," she replied, carefully taking the bowl he handed her.

He watched her head for the table before grabbing his own dinner and joining her.

"It's as good as it smells," she assured him between bites and it was hard to take his eyes off of her to eat.

"You, uh, feeling better?"

She paused imperceptibly to consider. "I am. Thank you."

The silence was a bit awkward and he focused on his soup instead of watching her trying not to watch him.

"Look, James… I really appreciate what you've done for me, especially today. I don't know how to repay you," she began.

"It's nothing," he insisted.

Pressing her lips together, she nodded. "Alright, well, I think I have a plan. You're not going to like it."

A smile tugged at his features. "I'm sure I won't. What is it?"


	12. Is When You Leave Me Alone

**A/N: Shoutout to Paxfriday for reviewing!**

 **Is when you leave me alone**

Putting James on a plane out of the country felt strange. More so when she went to her own flight, heading the opposite direction. But this was time-sensitive and she couldn't have him around distracting her. Not that she was going to complain about what made him distracting. There were just more important things at stake right now.

When she had been under the ice, she hadn't been afraid. Because she was trained not to panic in dire situations, yes, but also because she wasn't on her own on this mission. It was different, in a good way. But maybe it was making her too soft to deal with Yelena. She had, after all, done better against her before she'd been spending so much time with Barnes, when he was unable to help her. Now, maybe she was counting on him too much.

So she sent him back to Steve. As part of the plan. He hadn't liked the idea of leaving her, which wasn't something she was going to read into, but he'd agreed eventually. And now he was gone and she was going to face her erstwhile replacement on her own. She understood Yelena's point of view to an extent. It had been a great undertaking to break away from the Red Room and her programming in the first place. Yelena hadn't had the chance or the reason to do the same.

There was no need to worry about going at this without backup. She'd taken down whole building's worth of people on her own before. She'd fought aliens and killer robots. She'd been chased by the Hulk. She'd faced the Winter Soldier three times and lived. A less-experienced Black Widow should be nothing.

It was just bad timing that had gotten Yelena this far. If the team were still together – if she weren't in hiding – all this would have been the work of a weekend. Strike Team Delta would have gone in there and taken care of it. But SHIELD was gone (as far as she was concerned, anyway) and she had to gather her own intel, follow her own hunches and try to track down leads. It was a lot more work and she lost precious time doing it. But she wasn't going to fail again.

Questioning the scientists had been somewhat helpful. She gleaned what she could about Yelena's plans and sent that on to Fury. He didn't have the staff or the resources that had once been at his disposal, but they were making headway. And she was comparing it with the intel she had already gathered. A story was forming from the bits and pieces.

Lukin founded Kronas as a front for a rebranding of Department X. Karpov and the rest of the old guard had been phased out when they couldn't keep up with the times. Where ever Madame B had gone after the Red Room ended, she was found and brought in to train another recruit. There hadn't been the budget or the power yet for them to do it the way it had been done before – Yelena was the only one in the new program.

They had hand-picked the new Widow from their pool of elite agents. She had been deemed the best and had undergone rigorous programming and training to compete with Natasha Romanoff. Because Madame B held a grudge – Natasha remembered that. Why Lukin would care, she wasn't sure. She'd met the man only once or twice. It wasn't as though his honor had been betrayed or that she could have personally offended him by defecting. The Winter Soldier project wasn't under his control, so he couldn't have been getting revenge for her brief derailing of that.

In any case, Kronas had sought out the best scientists it could find. Those who were unwilling to join them often found themselves unable to leave. A new material had been discovered and Lukin intended to weaponized it. Yelena was serving him by gathering those scientists that resisted as well as tracking down more of the material.

Most of that Natasha had put together before finally catching up to Yelena. Asking the newly-freed scientists gave her some new insight into the particulars of the weapon being developed. The material, though radioactive, could be reworked into something useful. Something that gave Lukin the power he wanted over others.

Radioactivity had proven itself worth the risk sometimes – it could make a regular person into an enhanced one. Like it had with Banner and Parker. Lukin was always looking for a way to make more Winter Soldiers, more Black Widows. But super spies and serums only went so far. This would be a much bigger experiment. His intention was to test it out on a large civilian population and see what stuck. He was confident that the procedures used to keep the Winter Soldier in line would work again to keep anyone of these newly powered people under his full control.

She expected hubris would have ended that foolishness quickly, but now he was in jail and who knew how much of his plan Yelena was going to complete on her own? She had reason to be wary of being replaced, surely. So Natasha didn't think she would follow through with it. But it was difficult to tell. How far would she go to prove herself?

The fact that she had the book was concerning. There was no way she would expect to find the Winter Soldier himself after her. So she must have retrieved it from Berlin for her own purposes. To find a way to control the monsters she was about to create.

In any case, Natasha knew what she had to do next. Chasing Yelena across the globe (or, at least Europe) wasn't going to get her anywhere. She needed to talk to the people who had put her to work. So she headed to Berlin to see Sharon about a favor.

* * *

"You really have to stop showing up like this," Sharon grumbled as she walked through the door of her apartment. She had been startled, reaching for her weapon, but quickly recovered.

"Should I have picked you up from work?" Natasha suggested with a smile.

Sharon rolled her eyes and headed to her kitchen for a glass of water. "What can I do for you this time?"

Getting out of the comfiest chair in the living room, Natasha followed her. "I need to talk to Lukin. Where did you stash him?"

"Talk to him? He's got the best lawyers money can buy. No one talks to him."

"I'm sure I can convince him."

Sharon looked at her sharply. "He made bail. He just has to stay in touch with the prosecution – who may not be able to prove him complicit in any crimes. He was careful enough that there aren't any reliable witnesses."

That was disquieting news. "How are they spinning all those kidnappings?"

"He pinned it all on that woman you know."

"Is she here in custody?" Natasha asked, brightening.

Giving her a dubious look, Sharon nodded. "Yeah. You think you can find a way in?"

"I'm sure I can. Thank you," she added and headed for the door.

"Hey, wait!"

Surprised, she stopped and turned around. "Yes?"

"That's it? You're not going to tell me what this is all about?"

"Kind of in a hurry, Carter."

Sharon looked like she wanted to say something, but she just nodded. "Good luck."

"Thank you," she repeated and left.

* * *

Breaking into the holding cells wasn't the easiest task – leaving them would certainly prove a greater challenge – but she managed. Madame B was looking a little the worse for wear, no doubt realizing that she'd been duped.

"Natalia, I wasn't expecting you," she said quietly when Natasha appeared on the other side of the glass.

"No?"

Smiling slightly, the older woman shrugged. "Figured you had better things to do. You found Yelena."

It wasn't a question, so she didn't answer.

"I'm sure that was a big day for her. Was it her last?"

"No," she answered a little sharply and Madame B laughed.

"You may find that you regret that, milii moi."

Natasha set her jaw and didn't let herself be sucked into her former mistress's mind games. The woman had not gotten to where she was without having her own tricks, despite lacking the physical prowess of her students. "Who was she before?"

"Just an agent. We thought she was special enough. Not like you, of course," Madame B added with a fond smile. "We hoped with the right training… Well, I guess we'll see what she does on her own."

"Tell me how to stop her."

"Why would I do that?"

Natasha walked up closer to the glass and looked intently down at the other woman. "Because you owe me, Vera. Because of what you did to me, to Eva, to the American. What I won't let you do to anyone ever again."

"I made you what you are, Natalia. Where would you be without me?"

"Better off. Tell me."

Madame B shook her head in disappointment. "You are the greatest agent Russia has ever seen. If only you had stayed with us… No matter. Yelena will do for now, and soon we will have better assets than either of you could ever be."

"What is the target, Vera?" Natasha asked in a low, deadly tone.

"Oh, child, why would they tell me? Why would I care? You'll have to sneak up on someone else in the middle of the night. Now, if you haven't come here because you have the guts to go through with killing me, get out."

Natasha gave her a thin smile. "Tell me and I'll leave the old lady to her beauty rest." When the other woman refused to respond, Natasha opened the door. She charged her Bites and took a step forward. "Tell me, Vera. Or you're going to know what it's like to be one of your students."

Madame B's resolve lasted a little longer, but gave in before Natasha needed to recharge. Without another word, she left the cell and headed to the airport. She had a long flight ahead of her.


	13. No One Taught Me Better Than You

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **No one taught me better than you**

It was hard, leaving Natalia at the gate. But she insisted it would work out for the best, and he believed her. He was going back to the others, back to Steve, to wait. Until he got a call from her to move forward with her plan. He didn't like the idea of sitting safe at home while she was out there working and putting herself in danger. Or worse – what if he had a mission while he was waiting? What if he had to choose between finishing it and helping her?

Not that he had any doubts about which one he'd choose. It was just a choice he'd rather not make. But he kept his worries to himself and got on the plane when she asked. There was no emotional goodbye, just a wave and she was gone. And he suppressed the irrational fear that he'd never see her again. Of course he would. They weren't being forcibly separated by their superiors – just splitting up for a bit.

As the plane took off, he was nervous as always and did not like the way it added to his concerns. What if she was successful without him? What if Yelena was easier to track and take down this time? Would Natalia tell him? Would she invite him on her next job, or would he have to wait to see her until she made her peace with Steve? What if that never happened?

So maybe his worries did have some basis. She was convinced she could work alone, and she wasn't wrong. This might have been the closest he'd ever get to her, and he'd let her send him away. Loss hit him with a jolt and he winced. He should have said something, told her he remembered, told her how he felt before leaving. Last night, when there was time to talk about it. But he'd been so worried, and she looked so intent on her plan that he was tongue-tied and wanted her to get what she wanted.

He understood what it was to be groomed as the best and then be replaced. Well, have the attempt be made, anyway. He knew what she was going through, even if she kept it quiet. If only she would let him be there for her. It didn't have to be like it was before. She just seemed so alone. Her support system was shattered.

Fury was an important person to her and she seemed to still see him from time to time. Same with Barton. But neither were very often, mostly utilizing phone calls rather than meeting face to face. She hadn't seen Steve in months and he was clearly important to her. He didn't know if any other members of the team were as close – probably not. As a trainee in the Red Room, she'd always been surrounded by people. Not necessarily allies, but people like her. People enduring the same stuff.

The fact that she and Bruce Banner had apparently been a thing was a little strange and made him doubt his ability to read her. But it hadn't worked out, so maybe she had just been trying something new. Not that Banner didn't sound like a pretty nice guy, he was just fundamentally different from Natalia. Because, like Steve, like Wanda, he had chosen what had happened to him. Maybe not the specific results, but he hadn't been forced into an experiment.

The Avengers consisted mainly of people who chose to become what they were. Sam, Wanda, Steve, Banner, Barton, Rhodes, T'Challa, Lang. All of them were at least complicit in the steps to becoming heroes. Thor may have inherited his abilities, but he'd chosen to be a hero around here. Surprisingly, the one who could probably relate the most to he and Natalia was Stark – he had been captured and his steps toward super heroing were really just steps toward survival at the time.

Natalia was a survivor. So was he. They'd been taken and turned into weapons against their will. They hadn't volunteered, they hadn't sought any of this out. Not that they hadn't worked hard to prove themselves to their masters, but neither of them had asked to be turned into world-class assassins.

So he wanted to see more of her. Because it was so impressive to watch how she turned a hellish upbringing into something that helped people. Because she was so comfortable in her own skin and he wished he felt the same way. Because there was no one else who understood him so easily. Because he had loved her when he was just their asset. Because he loved her more now.

* * *

Sam met him at the airport and he had to admit it was nice to see him waiting by the baggage claim.

"Barnes," he said coolly.

"Wilson."

"How were things with the second scariest woman I know?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow at him as he grabbed his bag. "Second?"

"Wanda," Sam explained. "Natasha's got good moves but I have no idea how much that girl can do. Nice kid, though."

"Good point. It's been … interesting."

Sam smiled slightly as he led the way through the crowds and out the door. "I'm sure it was. You can tell Steve all about it when we get there."

He didn't ask what they had been up to while he was gone, and was content to be driven to the current safe house in silence. Their friendship may have started off on dubious terms, but it was easy now. And Steve would want to hear everything, so it was simpler to wait and tell the story to everyone at once. Everyone interested – he didn't know who else might want details except Barton.

The team was currently staying in a few hotel rooms. Finding places that could fit all of them was sometimes a challenge, which was another reason why they split up from time to time. In any case, Barton was not there but everyone else welcomed him back warmly. It was more than he expected and he was touched.

It was a pleasant evening, telling about what he and Natalia had been doing while Steve and Sam caught him up on their activities. For once, he didn't leave early to go sit outside. As the night progressed, Wanda excused herself to go to bed first and it didn't take long for Steve and Bucky to be the only ones still up.

"So, it was good? Everything was fine?" Steve asked quietly, clearly unable to ask what he actually wanted to know.

"Yeah. We got along really well, actually."

Nodding, Steve seemed to be deep in thought. "Do you think that she'll come work with us sometime?"

"I don't know. I hope so," he added honestly after a pause.

Steve smiled slightly. "You're going to go help her when she calls?"

"Yeah. If she calls."

That got Steve's attention. "You don't think she will?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, man. She might be able to handle it just fine without me." Biting his lip, he considered whether or not he should tell Steve the other reason Natalia might not want to be around him anymore. Or, ideally, the reason she might want to see him again almost as much as he wanted to see her.

"Hey, Buck, you okay?"

"Um, yeah. Just, you know, tired. Haven't been getting much sleep."

Steve wasn't satisfied with that answer, but he didn't press. "Well, if Nat likes working with you, she'll probably come around and lend us a hand. I was pretty worried, sending you to her. But Barton said it'd be fine."

"Neither of you said she was the contact," he replied, surprised Steve had known. But it would have been weird if he'd talked to Barton that long without it coming up, he supposed. It was his own fault for not being part of the conversation.

Raising his eyebrows, Steve looked guilty. "Hey, I'm sorry, I thought you knew. Didn't mean for it to be a secret."

Thinking back to what seemed like a very long time ago but was really less than two weeks, he smiled slightly at Natalia's reaction to him. At the time, he'd been as taken aback as she was. But now he let himself consider that her surprise might mean something. "It's alright. She didn't know, either."

"She didn't?"

It was clear that the idea of Natalia not knowing something was pretty alien to Steve, which made Bucky's smile grow. "Nope. She recovered quickly, of course."

"Of course," Steve replied distantly. "So, wait, she went to a meet expecting Barton and instead got, you know, you?"

"The guy who's almost killed her a few times? Yeah, Steve, looks that way."

"And she was just fine with it? Let you tag along on her mission, spending basically all of her time with you for over a week?"

He always was a good tactician – he might start guessing something close to the truth soon. "Tag along?" Bucky deflected.

"Provide invaluable assistance, I mean," Steve corrected, rolling his eyes.

"Thank you."

Steve shook his head slowly. "I just don't get it. It would have made sense to send you back after that woman had that book – Natasha said she was going to get it?" He nodded. "Natasha is usually so strategic. She could have called Barton or one of us once it looked like you might be more a liability," he continued, mostly to himself. Then he glanced up at Bucky again. "What did you do to her?"

"Nothing," he insisted, surprised. Steve was continuing to stare at him, so he figured he'd better address that. "Thanks for the support, by the way."

"Don't act like you're offended, Buck. You would have done the same thing," Steve replied with a smile. "I guess you just gave her that sad puppy-dog face that women always seem to like. Figured Nat of all people would be able to resist, though."

"Apparently not," Bucky replied with an innocent expression.

Getting to his feet, Steve shook his head again. "Well, I'm going to bed. Try not to charm anyone else into making bad choices."

"I can't make any promises," he insisted seriously and Steve threw one of the paper plates from dinner at him with an exasperated noise. He grinned as he caught it.


	14. There Will Be Highs & There Will Be Lows

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **There will be highs and there will be lows**

Going back to Russia was never something she enjoyed doing. It had been too difficult a place to escape the first time. Too many bad memories came back to the surface when she was in the old country. Not to mention the fact that she had far more enemies here than anywhere else. But she was never one to shy away from doing what had to be done, so off to the town of Raduzhny.

It was a decent size, though getting there in winter could be challenging. She was lucky enough that there wasn't a storm to slow down her progress. Once she landed, she looked thoughtfully at her phone and considered whether or not to tell anyone where she was. Cautiousness won over and she sent Clint a text. Then, after a moment, James. She managed to convince herself that it was just in case Clint was busy.

One of the benefits of doing a job in Russia was that passing for a local was extremely easy. Since she technically was one. Though Russians could of course tell a Moskvitch from a country girl, so she still had to do some acting. Natural gas and oil kept the town in business and the people employed, unlike the places where she usually worked.

She had researched Kronas' imprint in the region during the flight, and, dressed as a worker, went to investigate them. The first one was just an empty plot of land – recently purchased, not yet used. The second was an administrative office, hardly large enough to warrant searching. But she was always thorough. The third was a refinery and it was almost a relief to see the number of guards around it.

Taking out the sentries would show her hand, so she moved very carefully through their lines. There were some tense moments of her with her back to the wall, praying that the guy didn't turn his head another twenty-five degrees, but she made it inside unnoticed. The place was large and she searched the upper floors first to get warmed up. She didn't expect to find anything – or anyone – but wanted to make sure she'd shaken off the drowsiness from the flight before she got to the basement.

There was a guard next to the fingerprint scan and she weighed her options. A swift kick knocked him out and he fortunately had clearance to get through the door. She could remember a time or two where the guard posted outside was not able to get through and she'd had to find someone else's prints.

The basement was not empty. She managed to get inside silently enough and search it. Same cells of scientists as the other ones, though there were more here. Same kinds of equipment. No Yelena.

Going back upstairs, she propped up the guard and pulled a flask out of her coat. She poured some of the vodka into his mouth and let the rest run down his shirt. Then leaned him against the door in what would hopefully look like a drunken stupor. It would explain his headache as well unconsciousness. This being AIM, they might still be suspicious, but she hoped it would be passable.

Then she left the building and checked into a hotel. The next two days involved staking out the facility and waiting. When she was too tired to think straight, she went to the hotel to sleep, leaving behind a small camera. So at least she would still know if Yelena showed up.

On the third day, she did. Natasha had only been sitting in a car up the street for half an hour when a cavalcade of new cars streamed by. It was unusual and she smiled grimly at Yelena's foolishness. She was clearly more interested in the title than the reality of being a Widow. Natasha had a reputation but she was never flashy about it. That was kind of the point.

Carefully, she took stock of her mental state and her resources. She'd been asleep recently but not so recently that her reactions would be slow. Her Widow's Bites and Stingers were charged, she had two garrotes, and she'd gotten her hands on a pistol. Clint and James knew where she was, but she sent them a quick message that she was going in now. She didn't wait for a response.

Security was higher this time, but she managed. It took the better part of an hour to get inside and off the ground floor. There were three guards posted outside the fingerprint scan and she held back a sigh. Then she walked out of her hiding place confidently.

"Halt," one of them ordered, clearly the senior officer. "Who are you?"

"The real Black Widow," she replied calmly, and launched herself at him first. The others were armed and tried to aim at her, but she brought them down easily enough. There were only three of them, after all. Hardly a challenge.

Unfortunately, none of their fingerprints opened the door. So she hooked up her phone and waited patiently for it to work its way through their security system. Once it finished, she listened to the voices and determined that Yelena had put the scientists to their mysterious task and was giving orders.

There was one thing in her arsenal that Natasha had been intent on finding for just this kind of situation – a flash grenade. Tossing it down the stairs, she turned away and waited. When it went off, so did the fire alarm – and the sprinklers. Smiling grimly at the unexpected complication, she slipped into the shadows and waited for people to run past her.

Two guards led the scientists up, Yelena shouting orders behind them. Then two more guards followed and Yelena brought up the rear. As soon as she was close enough, Natasha jumped out and knocked her backwards, causing her to slip on the wet concrete and nearly fall down the stairs.

The younger woman snarled a string of obscenities and Natasha smiled. "That's no way to talk to your superior," she told her.

"Superior? I don't know how they do things in America, Izmennik, but our hierarchy is based on skills. I seem to recall throwing you into a river last time."

"Did you think it was that easy to kill me?"

Yelena grimaced. "I suppose I will find out today, won't I?"

"How difficult it is to kill a legend? Yes, you will."

Their banter ceased as they settled in to work. It was a challenge to keep their footing on the wet stairs and they soon had made their way down to where there was at least the flat floor of the lab. That also provided more dangerous weapons since there were chemicals sitting around. When Natasha had a moment to check the screen on her phone, she was relieved to see that everyone else was out of the building. So she set off the charges she'd planted earlier.

Explosions deafened her and she watched in silence as Yelena stared upward in shock. Her hearing returned in time to hear the other woman ask what she was doing.

"I don't know why you're so upset. You did the same thing in Brussels," Natasha replied.

Yelena glared. "You think this will stop us?"

A crack in the ceiling forced both of them to jump apart, and Natasha leaned against the wall, coughing and aware that Yelena was probably doing the same on the other side of the rubble. Getting to her feet, she hurried over to find Yelena's leg pinned. "Looks to me like it's working."

The fear in Yelena's eyes was palpable, but she put on a brave face. "If you are going to kill me, Natalia, get it over with."

Instead, Natasha kneeled next to her. "I don't want to kill you."

"You must if you want to live."

A sad smile flickered across her face. "How about a story? Once upon a time, there were twenty-eight Black Widows. They were young and highly-skilled and determined to be the best agents Department X had ever produced. Do you know what happened to them, Yelena?"

Yelena's face twisted in pain as she attempted to free her leg. "They failed," she snapped when she was not successful.

"No. I killed them. Because I was told they were obsolete and I was better than them. Sound familiar?" Yelena looked sick. "Do you have a family, Yelena? Parents, brothers, sisters?" The other woman didn't answer. "Can you imagine what it is like to kill them? To do it because they will kill you if you don't? Do you understand what setting off Lukin's weapon is going to do to people? Do you understand what the Red Room has always done to people?"

She pulled out her phone and played the recording of Madame B. The part where Yelena was about to be obsolete.

"This is one of your tricks, Romanova," Yelena said, but she didn't sound convinced.

"Maybe it is. Or maybe you're going to wake up one morning and find your tenure isn't what you'd hoped. Particularly after this failure. What will you do then? You can't fight people like Madame B and Lukin. You can only run. So, run, Yelena. Now, before they no longer have any use for you."

With that, Natasha stood up and turned away.

"Why don't you kill me? Live up to the title, Natalia," Yelena called after her.

Natasha glanced over her shoulder with a bitter smile. "You don't understand the point of the Black Widow, Yelena. Killing people is easy. Making them suffer is an art." Then she left without looking back.


	15. Not a Lot Has to Change

**A/N: Just one chapter left after this! Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Not a lot has to change**

Natalia sent him a text, saying where she was going after Berlin. She didn't invite him to join her, and he tried not to be disappointed. They were relocating again anyway, which provided a nice distraction. Moving around every few days, at most a week, was certainly stressful. But they couldn't afford to draw attention, and the longer they stayed, the more likely someone would find one of them familiar.

Even if the news cycle had moved on from them, the former Avengers were still fairly recognizable. And so was he. Living out of suitcases made sense, and they made their way across Europe as a start. Sometimes towns were chosen for a particular reason – one of them had friends or contacts there – but mostly it was at random. If there was a significant anti-Avenger sentiment, they moved on quickly.

It was strange to see Steve dealing with this. He'd always wanted to help people, and having his hands tied by the government was a new situation. Following orders without question had never been his M.O., so it wasn't all that surprising that he would end up on the other side of the people who thought themselves in charge. He felt that Steve was handling it remarkably well. Better than the others. Keeping up morale was a challenge, but even in disgrace, Captain America could rally people to his banner.

They were just arriving at their new place – a large house in the country – when Bucky's phone actually rang. That never happened. Getting a text was rare enough. Stepping out onto the porch, he answered it.

"James."

"Natalia." He hadn't realized how anxious he was until he heard her voice and felt instant relief wash over him. "Where are you?"

"Pokrov. Thought I might, um, make a detour on my way."

He remembered that's where her parents were and felt a pang in his chest. "On your way where?"

There was a pause and he held his breath. "I was thinking that maybe it's not a weakness to work with people."

"You're coming here?"

"Yes."

That elevated his heartrate. "How soon?" I've missed you, he wanted to say, but was afraid it might make her change her mind.

"Soon. I'll head to Moscow in the morning for the flight. I just, uh, wanted to check in. Make sure I was welcome," she added quietly.

It was rare to hear her sound so unsure of herself. "Of course you are. We'd love to have you. What happened, Natalia? Did you find Belova?"

"I did."

Getting information out of her was next to impossible and he smiled slightly at how frustrating she could be. "Are you okay?"

"I think so. Hey, James… Is Steve around?"

"Yeah, you want to talk to him?" He wouldn't let it hurt that her attention was going to be divided between her other friends when she got here – and he had no idea how much of her time he would warrant after their brief collaboration.

She was silent for a long moment. "No, I just… Could you ask him if, um, if there's room?"

"Sure, hang on," he replied gently, surprised by her nervousness. Then he went back inside to find Steve, who was talking to Wanda about something. Covering the mouthpiece of the phone (or where he guessed that might be – phones were weird now), he waited patiently for a break in their conversation.

"What is it, Buck?" Steve asked, still looking at Wanda intently.

"Natalia was wondering if we had room for her to join us," he said, very proud of himself that his tone sounded natural.

Both Steve and Wanda turned to look at him, Steve with a slight frown and Wanda with a small smile. "Natalia?" she repeated.

Act normal, he ordered himself. "Um, yeah."

"We'd be happy to see her, Buck," Steve answered, glancing between Wanda and Bucky with a thoughtful expression.

"Yes, I'm sure we'd _all_ be happy to see her," Wanda added with an emphasis he wasn't going to think about.

"Great. I'll tell her," he said awkwardly, and left them to whatever they were discussing. He could feel their eyes on his back as he walked away and he had a feeling he hadn't acted as nonchalant as he'd hoped. Once outside again, he lifted the phone to his ear. "Natalia?"

"Yes?"

"He says it would be great for you to join us."

He could tell she was smiling when she spoke again. "Alright. I'll see you in a day or two. Thank you, James."

"You're welcome," he responded, unsure for what she was thanking him. She hung up before he could ask, and he spent the next thirty-six hours waiting impatiently. He'd decided that he would have to speak up soon. Because living with her was going to be torture, especially with the others around, making an already delicate situation into something more volatile.

He was aware that his change in behavior had been marked. Both Steve and Sam tried to subtly question him about Natalia, about what exactly happened while he was with her. But he didn't give anything away, diverting the subject when he could and stonewalling when he couldn't. It wasn't his place to explain his nervousness. Of course, if she were just a normal girl he was interested in, he would have said something to Steve, at least. But their shared history made things complicated. So he just waited and tried to spend more time with Lang and Barton, who was back, instead of people who wanted to know why he was suddenly the one she called.

Finally, at four in the afternoon, she arrived. When the doorbell rang, Bucky resisted the urge to answer it. Barton did instead and he sat listening to their voices and waiting to see if anyone else would go greet her. He needed to be alone with her, but that couldn't happen right away, so he was uncertain of how to react to her until then. Wanda joined them next and he figured he might as well head down, too.

Sam caught up with him in the hallway and he had the sneaking suspicion he was there to see how Bucky reacted to seeing her. So he didn't. Even if she did look so pretty – had she gotten more beautiful or had he just forgotten? She was smiling at something Wanda said, and then she caught his eye across the room. Her expression didn't change but he thought it looked more genuine. Or maybe he was imagining things.

It didn't take long for everyone to come to the door and express their happiness that she'd joined their side – or whatever. Steve insisted that her successful mission meant they should have one of their dinners, and Bucky was somewhat relieved to help out in the kitchen instead of watching Natalia talk to other people.

Sam was also a good cook, and the two of them did most of the meals. Moving around as much as they did meant that they relied a lot on restaurants. But the dinners after a successful mission were important and everyone chipped in to make them a good alternative. Plus it was a nice way to relax after a mission and get out of that mindset. Bucky hadn't been on a mission in a few days, but it was still very helpful to have something to do tonight.

At dinner, most of the conversation was Steve telling Natalia about their adventures since they'd last seen her. Everyone chimed in from time to time except for him, and she was engaged without revealing anything about her own work. For the second time, Bucky was determined to stay here until the dinner ended. So he could talk to her.

"You're right, Sam, I'm sure catching any of us isn't very comfortable. But I don't think you can convince Steve to stop jumping off of stuff," Natalia was saying with a grin. Steve frowned at her in mock-offense and everyone laughed. "What do you think, Barnes? How long has he had this habit?"

Slightly startled to be addressed, he cleared his throat. "From what I hear, he jumped out of one of the first planes he was ever in on some half-cocked rescue attempt," he offered. "So I don't think he's ever going to stop. Must be something the serum did to his brain."

"Hey, I seem to recall that it was your sorry ass I was rescuing," Steve countered. "And it's not like either of you should talk."

"No?" Natalia asked politely.

"The first time I met you, you wanted my help to jump onto a moving alien vehicle twenty feet above us. And Bucky jumps off overpasses and buildings all the time."

"Looks like he has you there," Lang pointed out.

They all laughed, Barton affirmed Natalia's equally poor self-preservation skills, and the conversation moved onto other topics. Bucky was as quiet as he often was during these things, though he could feel Natalia looking at him from time to time. Finally, it started to wind down and he took a deep breath, going over again what he wanted to say to her.

Instead, she and Barton stepped outside to catch up and he was at a loss for what to do. So, to avoid anyone asking him any questions, he headed to the kitchen to clean things up. He gave brief responses to anything anyone said to him as they brought in their dishes and he was eventually left alone. To wait.

"Hey, man, thanks for all you did for her," Barton said suddenly, appearing in the doorway. "I didn't think it would turn into such a job."

"No problem," he replied. Barton nodded and left, heading upstairs. Hesitantly, he made his way to the porch and found Natalia still there, deep in thought. "Hey," he said quietly, uncertainly.

She looked up a little sharply, but then smiled. "James. Hey."

After an awkward moment, he left the doorway to sit down next to her. "Natalia," he began.

"It's nice being back with everyone. Having a support system," she said abruptly.

"Yes," he agreed, pausing to see where she was going with this.

"You know, all the stuff that Stark and Steve stirred up has been unpleasant to deal with. But one good thing is that it brought you here, with us, instead of hiding out by yourself."

He didn't know how to respond to that, so just looked at her in quiet surprise.

Pressing her lips together briefly, she continued. "I'm glad Clint sent you instead of meeting me before we went our separate ways. I've been alone too long," she added, almost a whisper. "I just… There's something I need to know before I decide to stay."

"What is it?" he asked, heart pounding in anticipation.

Her hands wrung together and she didn't look at him for a long moment. "Do you… Do you remember it all? Our time together when I was young?"

Reaching out to take her hand, he waited until she looked up again. "Yeah, I remember everything, Natalia. And you were the one good thing in all of it."


	16. Things Just Can't Stay the Same

**A/N: Final chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed! I don't have a sequel in the works at the moment, but I imagine I'll get around to one in the next few months :) Enjoy!**

 **Things just can't stay the same**

She had been raised to kill people. To slip easily into a crowd, to take out a target, to return to her handlers. She had been taught to trust no one except her masters, to never look for friendship or company in her life. To see everyone as a threat. And she had learned the lesson well. Until she'd grown to understand that living like that wasn't really living.

Yelena was right – she had grown soft. But that wasn't a bad thing. Maybe Yelena could learn it herself. If not, well, at least she was unlikely to be working for Madame B or Lukin again. And another freelance assassin wasn't that much of a threat. Even if she had been trained the same way, she was no Black Widow.

It was a risk, leaving her there. But her options were limited these days. She didn't want to kill her, and turning her into the authorities was unlikely to be effective without any specific proof of why she needed to be locked up. Or maybe that was just an excuse because she didn't want one of the few people with whom she had anything in common rotting away in a jail cell.

So, this would work. She had to believe it would. At least for now. Once outside the damaged refinery, she stood amid the destruction and stared at the way the light from the fires played across the snow. What was she going to do now?

Barnes was waiting for her. He'd wanted to help her, and that was a rare trait to find in someone. Whether he remembered their history or not seemed irrelevant – he was clearly taken with her regardless of what might have happened before. And now she had to make a choice. If she wanted to see him again, she had to see Steve. If she wanted to work with Steve, she had to see Barnes. So the easiest solution was just avoiding both of them. But maybe she was getting tired of being alone. And Yelena was certainly a good example of what happened to a person like her if she never let anyone in.

So when he told her where they were relocating, she made up her mind. As she'd told Steve all those months ago, staying together was more important than how they stayed together. She was willing to forgive him for making her life more difficult lately, for escalating things with Stark. She'd forgive Stark, too, if he showed any interest in inviting her back. But that looked like it would have to wait.

It wasn't convenient to stop by her parents' graves on the way, but she felt it necessary. There were so many questions she wanted to ask them, about who they were, what they stood for, why they'd sent her to the Red Room, what they'd hoped for her. If she had a predilection for becoming an assassin or if it was just something the Red Room had made of her. There weren't any answers and she stared at the stones for a long time. Who would she have been if she'd stayed with them?

She was never the kind of person to dwell on what ifs, so she didn't linger. Once she was at a respectful distance, she called Barnes. She'd thought about calling Steve or Clint. But… she'd rather hear his voice than anyone else's. His surprise was evident, as was his concern about her. It was endearing and she was glad to have called, particularly when he called her Natalia to the others. Maybe it shouldn't have meant as much as it did, but she spent the journey considering exactly what she was going to say to him.

Clint answered the door when she arrived. There was no reason for that to be disappointing, so she pushed that feeling aside and was truly glad to see him. They talked and were soon joined by Wanda. Then Sam and James came around the corner. It was hard to look at anyone else but him, while trying to get a read on how he felt about her being here. On how he might react to what she had to say.

Dinner was a pleasant affair and she tried to focus on how nice it was to be surrounded by friendly faces again. Sometimes she was successful, sometimes not. When it was over, Clint wanted to talk to her and she couldn't say no. They talked outside about mission particulars and how things had gone in South America for him, and in Europe and Russia for her. It was normal, the kind of conversation she'd with him many times. So hiding her impatience shouldn't have been so much of a challenge.

Clint said goodnight and went inside, and she sat down to think. If she wanted to talk to Barnes alone, this was a good spot. But how to get him to come outside? Thinking about that was a nice diversion from worrying over what she would say, and that's what she was doing when it turned out she didn't need a plan. He just came out to talk to her by himself.

"Hey," he said and she was pained to see he was uncertain of his welcome.

"James, hey," she replied warmly. When he sat down next to her, she found it very difficult to focus. Especially when he said her name. So she forced herself to speak, and was a little surprised by her own honesty. But, despite everything, she was happy that forces had conspired to bring them together again. There was no way she would ever have found him when he was hiding out, and she doubted she would have ever been willing to approach him at some later date if Clint had sent someone else.

He was hanging on her every word and it was hard to look him in the eye. But she finally drummed up the courage to ask him what she'd been wanting to ask him since she'd sat down across from him at that café in Odessa.

"I remember everything, Natalia, and you were the one good thing in all of it," he told her earnestly, taking her hand.

With some shock she realized she was blushing, but she couldn't look away. "James, I," she tried.

His thumb ran along her palm in a way that really shouldn't have been so distracting, but was. "I've missed you, Natalia. For years," he murmured.

She was very aware of how close he was, of his scent and the way he was looking at her, but had no idea how to genuinely react to those things. When she was undercover, well, that was completely different. "I've missed you, too," she whispered.

Releasing her, he lifted his hand to gently cup her cheek and tilt her head up. Then he stopped and she waited half a second before leaning forward to kiss him. His response was immediate and intense, pulling her against him like he was drowning and she alone could save him. It was familiar and new all at the same time, and she could hardly keep up.

"James," she gasped when she got the chance.

"Natalia," he growled against her throat.

"Do you, uh, want to go inside?" she soldiered on, and he chuckled. "The house, James," she clarified.

She was in his lap by this point, so was pretty aware of what he wanted. What they both wanted. "If you do," he replied softly, pressing a kiss to her shoulder and sitting back to regard her.

His tone made her pause to consider. "Do you?" she asked.

"Yes. But, Natalia… I don't want it to be like before," he told her firmly.

She thought about how easy sneaking around with him would be, and how complicated it would be to share this, whatever it was, with everyone. Well, maybe it wouldn't be easy, per se, but they'd managed it in a house full of spies and assassins before. So this shouldn't be any more difficult. But if it wasn't what he wanted, she understood. And maybe he was right.

"How do you want it to be?"

That gave him pause, and he ran his fingers lightly across her back while he considered. "I don't know. But I love you, Natalia, and I don't want to have to wait until everyone's backs are turned to act like it."

"You… love me?" That he liked her was obvious, but she hadn't thought, hadn't expected, his feelings to be quite so strong already. They'd only really known each other, what, a week? Two?

"Yes," he murmured, touching her face. She noticed that he didn't really use his left hand to touch her unless it was necessary and was struck with the desire to show him it didn't bother her.

Slowly, she got to her feet and held out her hand. "Come on, James." He obligingly stood as well, and she led the way to her room, which was fortunately on the other side of the house from the others. Steve knew her pretty well, after all. Not that he could have envisioned this particular reason when considering her preference for privacy…

* * *

They spent more time talking than she really expected, but she didn't mind. It was a lot like before – without anyone else to trust, they had talked a lot in the Red Room as well. Not that all they did was talk, of course. She woke up very content to be wrapped in nothing but a sheet and his arms. He was still asleep and she nestled against him with a sigh. Even if the thought of telling anyone terrified her (a result of what happened last time, not anything based on logic), she was willing to do it. Because they both had enough secrets weighing them down.

She was planning on bringing something up at breakfast, maybe start out with an innocent observation that there was a spare bedroom, and then go from there. She didn't know if she should mention that they knew each other before or not. Maybe not right away. That would take the conversation from pleasant to questioning why she'd never told anyone, Steve in particular, before now.

But that wasn't how it worked out because Sam knocked at her door shortly after she woke up. "Hey, have you seen Barnes? He's not in his room and Steve's a little worried," he called through the door.

"Bozhe moi," she muttered, apparently loud enough to wake James. His first response was to pull her closer, which was sweet but not particularly helpful. "Get up," she hissed. "They're looking for you," was the necessary addition when he was about to take that statement a different way.

"Natasha?" Sam tried again, sounding worried.

"Yeah, just a sec," she called, jumping out of bed and searching for her clothes. God, how did her bra end up on the ceiling fan? James was getting dressed with a little more success, and quietly made the bed look less like it had been used quite so thoroughly.

"Look, if you haven't seen him, I can go." He sounded confused and more than a little uncomfortable.

James looked at her expectantly and she gave him a frown. "This wasn't how I pictured this," she grumbled and he grinned at her. "I have, actually," she directed to Sam as she walked over and opened the door.

He glanced past her to see James sitting on her bed, blinked, then started laughing. "That's cold, Nat. I thought we had something special," he joked, shaking his head. "Hey, Steve! I found him!"

It was far too little a time before Steve rounded the corner and looked significantly more dumbfounded than Sam had. "Well. That's not what I expected," he said slowly, glancing from one to the other. "Kinda explains some things, though. How long as this been going on?"

The question was almost official-sounding. "A long time, Steve. A very long time," she told him seriously. Both Sam and James stopped grinning and Steve looked at her hard. "In the Red Room."

"I see," Steve said quietly.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I just… I didn't know who he was then."

"It's not her fault, Steve. After what they did to punish us, I'm sure she never wanted to talk about it again. And I didn't want to tell you before she did," James explained.

It was a lot to take in, and she felt a little sorry for him. But it was a pleasant feeling to have all the cards on the table. James stood up and joined her in the doorway, taking her hand gently. It made Steve stare and Sam looked like he wanted to excuse himself.

"Alright," Steve said at last. "Alright, I get it." He looked at Sam. "There any big secrets you need to get off your chest?"

"Not that I can think of."

"Good, let's go get breakfast." He shot them a hesitant smile before he turned and headed for the kitchen. Sam shook his head at them in mock-disappointment before following suit.

James turned to face her. "You didn't have to do that."

"I know. I wanted to," she replied simply.

Smiling slightly, he leaned down to kiss her forehead. "I'm starving," he admitted, and she giggled.

"I can't imagine why," was her dry response.

"Wait," he said when she started forward.

Confused, she stopped to look at him. "For what?"

Catching up to her, he kissed her very thoroughly. "For that," he explained softly, still holding her close.

"Let's eat fast," she suggested and he laughed.

"I like the way you think."


End file.
